Rise A Queen (A T'Challa Black Panther Romance)
by Kezzlebezzle
Summary: Every King must have his Queen . . . They swore they would never see each other again. Their powers, their memories - too dark for Wakanda to handle. Until the events of Civil War, when Phalaesia is pulled back to the very nation that almost destroyed her life, and the Prince who won her heart . . .
1. Chapter 1

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 _2003 - Nigeria - Strike Force Gamma_

" _Erik!"_

 _The cover fire shots nearly deafened her. He's not acting out the plan. He's never acting out the plan. An enemy solider lunges at her but the gun is quicker. There was smoke in the air. The tanks were burning. And bodies. More bodies than breath._

 _"What the hell?!" she yells as Erik turns around. He has that smug grin on his face. She has punched it off a few time's but he never really got the message. "Do you see what you've done here?!"_

 _"Yeah . . . I completed the mission. That is the point isn't it . . . Princess?"_

 _"We've lost more men than we needed to."_

 _"They laid down their lives for something greater . . ."_

 _"Shut up!" Phalaesia barks. "Alright? Just can it ok? They died because you shot them." He lifts an eyebrow, impressed but she's not done. "What did you honestly think I'd just stay in the warehouse and never once check in to see what you were doing?"_

 _"If you start running off your mouth . . ."_

 _"You'll do what?!" She laughs. "Going to kill me? Make me just another mark on that freak show you call a body, no. Because we both know the truth. You won't lay a finger on me as long as you think somehow that I can still be useful."_

 _The tension brushes slightly from his eyes. But only slightly. "You don't see it now. But I'm doing this for you. I'm doing this to help you."_

 _The boy cowers behind him and she flinches. No matter how much she hates them for what they did to her. No matter how much she despises the concept of Wakanda, one thing is su_ re. _She did not intend for this to happen._

 _"Don't pretend you give a damn about me Erik," she growls. "The boy is coming with me. And there will be no negotiation."_

 _"You're telling me . . ." He drags the boy by the scruff of his neck. A blonde haired, blue eyed boy, who's unfortunate enough to have abilities that make him interesting to the wrong people. "That if it meant a cure for you, you wouldn't let me take this pathetic excuse for a human? He's just one child."_

 _"So were we, once!"_

 _"No more nightmares. No more memories about a life that was never meant for you. Phalaesia - I know you. We're practically the same person."_

 _That's what got her. If she ever did what he has done, she hopes someone would have put a bullet or three in her head a long time ago. "Are you deaf? I said there'll be no negotiation. Hand over the boy. Or I unleash hell."_

 _"You wouldn't dare . . ."_

 _It only took a moment of letting go for her eyes to burn. Purple like the vibranium drowning her body in a river of its own despair. Purple. For rage. And the air began to tingle and Erik's little facade began to slip._

" _Do not presume to dictate to me, what I will and will not do."_

 _The only sound is the pained cries of the boy. She has to be ready. She don't know whether he'll kill him. Or even try to kill her. But then, he yields._

 _"You win this round. But the battle ain't over." He kicks the boy so hard he lands in the dirt, sending him sprawling to her. "There's a special place in Hell for people like you and me!" He chuckles darkly._

 _"Then I'll see you there," she counters._

 _The last words he says before he disappears into the sunset, are words that burn themselves into the fibres of her mind._

 _"Or maybe I'll see you first."_

In the dead of night she sits up. The salt is stinging her eczema. That's the second time she's been to the Ancestral Plane. No heart shaped herb. It always fascinated the King. Her ability to go to places not meant for her. But one thing is certain as she rinses the salt from her skin. There are skeletons in the closet. It took her no small amount of bribery to allow Agent Ross to let her accompany him to Basun. But there. There Destiny is waiting for her. And she will not be late.


	2. Chapter 2

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"Are you sure this is a good idea?"

Phalaesia chuckles. "I never said good my dearest. I said smart."

"But smart because I live, right?"

"Oh yeah . . ." She winks at Zarmon, her contact. He's a handsome breed of man. Tall. Striking. The kind of man any woman would swoon at having. A few times she thought he might actually feel something more than he should. A hand held a few seconds too long. A smile that seemed a little too sincere. Of course she is wrong. She is not the kind of woman people fall in love with. Nevertheless, Zarmon always been there for her, especially when that little mishap with Wakanda happened, leaving her no choice but to drop off the grid.

"I can't tell if you're joking or not."

This whole thing is a joke. She's already downed a whisky, a few shots of that awful vodka stuff, and she's thinking of starting on the champagne when she clocks Agent Ross.

"Covert." She jabs her friend in the ribs and slips into the crowd until she reaches his table, abuzz with life in the casino. Thank goodness half the people here are drug lords and crime bosses. Makes her the least interesting out of the lot.

"Oh no."

"Agent Ross - can I just say how lovely you're looking today."

He's a gaunt looking man. A tired looking man with his sunken cheeks and crawled out words. But kind. And sincere, when it counts.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear." He gives her a half hearted nod. "I assume you're here to keep an eye on me."

"Deal me in," She says to the man at the centre of the table. "Everett, right now, I couldn't care less about what you're doing. You just stand there, look serious, and I'll handle the rest . . . crap!"

"Your Highness . . ." She melts back into the vast breadth of the room the second T'Challa appears. She's normally quicker. Faster. She should have clocked him as soon as he entered the room! For goodness sake!

Up the stairs she glides. It's been too long since she had this. A good stake out. There's T'Challa, who she takes care to stay hidden from. A young woman a few years her junior stands not entirely professionally at the bar. Rule one: Don't look like you're trying to blend in. And where . . .

"You should not be here."

"Okeye." They embrace. A lot of tears she wants to shed. And she can tell by the big dark eyes of her oldest friend, that she wants to cry too. Many times she saw this face this same face, drill into her the very best fighting she had ever seen. Footwork. Tight, swing from the hips. Again and again ever since she was but a child. And now the only Wakandan who would not kill her on sight.

"Why have you come back?" Okeye whispers.

"I have come to fulfil my vow," Phalaesia says.

"Look at what your promises have cost you!" Okeye snaps. "The love of your people. Your place among us. T'Challa's love . . ."

"It's not about his love," Phalaesia sighs. "It's not about him. It's not even about me. It's about Wakanda. It's about honour . . ." Her words are cut short. A tingling in her chest. The like of which she has never felt since . . .

"Cover the King." Okeye speaks and then she is gone. Back to the other side. She sees Klaue. Imbecile. Smiling. As he slams the vibranium on the table in front of Agent Ross. Okeye appears suddenly atop the balcony. And seconds later, all hell breaks loose.

Americans storm toward her position. But they didn't count on her. The little woman in the corner with the sensual black dress that spins back to reveal the vibranium handle. And the handle bristles into a sword.

She slices one guy clean across the back. Lashing out, her foot sends him stumbling towards the ground but the rest are already flocking back to her. Another loses a hand to her blade, she is like a lightning bolt, even with four inch heels on, her movements are swift, calculated and always, always lethal. Cover the King.

The next guy to cross her gets thrown clean through the wooden bars, crashing to the ground below. She rips off her heels and throws herself after him. A hand grabs her head, she flicks her head back with a satisfying crack, impaling someone's foot. She doesn't wait to see who.

"T'Challa!" She shouts.

And he freezes. The way he always used to whenever she said his name. And his beautiful eyes scan the crowd. And find her. And his face hardens. He says nothing. Dead eyes.

"I have nothing to say to you," he growls.

They both catch sight of Klaue at the same time.

"Murderer!" She yells. They both leap for the balcony but she reaches Klaue before the King. "Did you think I wouldn't come for you . . ."

"Less time on what's in front of you, and more time on who's behind you!" He giggles.

Too late does she see who he meant. T'Challa, only just reached the level. And not prepared for the giant gun to emerge from Klaue's hand and fire.

"No!" She throws herself in front of the King. She sees his face. Through all the money flying everywhere. Sees him lean down. And reach into her throat. Too late does she see what he is doing. Doctor Strange's spell.

"T'Challa . . ." It comes free. Her eyes burn yellow. Feels the darkness coming back.

"I told you before - I'll never let you die."

Her head rolls back as he sets her on the ground.


	3. Chapter 3

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" _Father . . ."_

" _Yes child?"_

" _I don't want to learn how to kill someone."_

 _They were sitting there, silently. In the garden of the heart shaped herb. The flowers seemed to cast an eerie purple glow over the face of King T'Chaka. She remembers that she was bruised, scarred, beaten yet again. After learning that if you push two fingers up underneath the left of the rib cage, you can stop someone's heart. She walked around clutching her chest for days after that._

" _Are you afraid, little fire?" He took her hand._

" _No . . ." He lifted an eyebrow and the lie died on her lips. "Yes. But I don't know why. Okeye is a strong teacher. She is patient. And kind to me. But I feel . . . as if there is another reason she is teaching me so fervently."_

" _Clever girl." The King was sad. He always bowed his head when he was sad. "If it were in my hands, you would stay with here, with us, forever. You are strong. And kind. And certain. You would make a fine queen."_

 _She brushes off the impression of who she would have to marry to be queen._

" _But?"_

" _Glory To Bast - she has other plans for you."_

" _Plans?" What a dirty word it was. "What kind of plans?"_

 _And once again he looked burdened. "You are a special child, Phalaesia. A child with gifts not known to any other man. And what I am about to tell you, you will carry to your end, the rest of your life. Do you swear it?"_

" _I swear on my mother's grave Father."_

 _That was the beginning. The beginning of her missions to protect Wakanda. To accept this mission from a man who was never her real father but always treated her with the same dignity as if she was his. The start of the end._

"Phalaesia for gods sake!"

"Move!" She barks to the guard at the door.

"Phalaesia you only just got out of bed . . ." She storms into the room preceding the interrogation cell. Klaue. She can feel it. The vibranium is always calling to her and he is a gold mine of the stuff.

"Zarmon, leave." There's a peace come over her.

"Madam," one of the woman at the computers rises, "with all due respect, Agent Ross said you were to remain in the medical bay . . ."

"Well now plans have changed," she growls. "I'm fit and well. And I'll not stand here while they . . ." She flicks her head towards T'Challa, "interrogate this snake."

There's heat in her stomach. And sadness in her heart as she takes her place beside T'Challa and Okeye who shoots her an unreadable look. She hasn't been this close to him in years. After years of swearing never to feel weakness again, to be this close and yet so far is crippling. But more problems arise. Klaue is talking. And when that man talks, it's more headaches for her.

"You should not have removed the spell," Phalaesia says, switching to the Wakandan dialect with ease.

He answers with his same fluid tone. "You were going to die. Surely you do not object to my saving your life."

"I object to your saving it and then thinking you can just walk on by me again."

"We both know there's a reason behind that! After all that happened to Kwasi. . ."

"Wakanda is a third world country . . ." Agent Ross's voice cuts through the beautiful sound of the Xhosa. Klaue is still sitting there but something has changed. His back is stiffer, his tongue looser. "Shepherds. Cool outfits. Nothing anyone needs to be worried about."

"That woman, behind the glass . . ." Klaue starts. He cocks his greyed head to the side, jeering. "Yes daring, I see you. I. See. You. I found it once. Otherwise Agent Ross, I would have had more proof with which to show you but twelve times, that creature out there stopped me. Lies. Misdirection, her speciality. She stopped me from finding Wakanda again."

She can feel the tension in T'Challa rise. There's no way out. She cannot kill Klaue. Not without confirming all of Agent Ross' suspicions. Like a gullible infant, he's already leaning forward, waiting for more.

"Phalaesia's just a kid," Agent Ross smiles. "A good Agent. But I doubt she's capable of the things you've told me . . ."

"Ask her. You know they don't like her very much in Wakanda. Think she's a traitor to their way of life, their ideals. But the very life of Wakanda flows in her blood!"

Ice. She prays that he doesn't make the connection. But he does.

"She has . . . vibranium in her blood? Impossible."

"Look her in the eyes, and make her swear to you that she doesn't."

T'Challa's eyes are fixed upon her, she can tell without even looking at him. She feels as if she's choking. His hatred of her depends on this lie. It's necessary. It's vital. If Klaue keeps talking, he'll tear it all down.

"Why didn't you tell me . . ."

"Hey!" The young woman who was with T'Challa breaks into the room. "Somethings going on outside . . ."

At that very moment, her words are torn from her throat. There's screaming. There's fire. And her body implodes and fires all in one moment! T'Challa! Her eyes snap open just in time to see the Black Panther suit cover his body. She races after him, leaping over the broken glass. Klaue. Not again. NOT again.

"Klaue!"

The morning air slams into her. The van. T'Challa goes down and a wave of kinetic energy sends her spinning to the ground. And she was ready to run after the monster. Until she looks up and sees a man wearing a queer headpiece, with a ring that she has only ever seen on one other person. His gaze finds her as the van races away, and he touches his head.

"Crap!" She shouts.

"You've cost us Klaue!" T'Challa snaps.

"You cost yourself Klaue you insolent swine!" She barks back. "I was going to kill him and then you would have had your revenge but no, let's prop up some pillows and settle a killer down for a chat!"

"My King!" Okeye races outside, her spear the ready. "Nakia!" As T'Challa returns inside, Okeye fixes Phalaesia with a stare that could melt ice. "Forgive him."

"Why should I?" She pants.

"He still loves you," Okeye sighs. "Even now."

"Someone should tell Nakia that."

"Nakia isn't you," Okeye replies without a pause. "I have kept my word. You have kept your word. We followed the commands of the late king to a fault. But now he is at peace. He has no power over you now. You must come home. You can explain everything to T'Challa. You can have your life back. Now come. We return to Wakanda immediately."

It is only when Okeye is out of sight that she gives way to tears. Strength. Courage. Honour. Live by these, and you will never know darkness. A promise is a promise,even in death. Wakanda forever. It is time to go home.


	4. Chapter 4

**Just to clarify, Phalaesia and T'Challa are not related! His father was very close to Phalaesia so I think was like they were family but there are no blood ties! Hope you are all enjoy this chapter, thanks for the favourites too!**

Could this get any more embarrassing? He just has to do it didn't he? Agent Ross being a damn American hero, tossing himself in front of the girl and now lo and behold, here he is on his way back to Wakanda first class.

"He saved my life!" Nakia insists. She's a pretty girl. Beautiful really, with skin like cocoa beans and equally gentle eyes. It's true. She can't blame T'Challa for looking, that's for sure. Okeye sighs.

It feels like they've been on the ship forever.

"That was his choice," Okeye continues. "Let us consider it. He's an agent of his country. It is his duty to report back to his superiors and it is your duty . . ."

"I am well aware of my duty General," T'Challa intercedes. His words may be firm but his manner is always as calm as the shores. "There is no one aboard this ship who does not know their duty. But we cannot abandon a man who sacrificed himself for one of our own."

"She's right T'Challa," Phalaesia interrupts. Nakia starts to speak but Phalaesia continues. "Agent Ross is a good man. A brave man. But by bringing him into our country, we do not know what he will take back with him."

Nakia grits her teeth. It is not difficult to detect the hatred rollin off her bones.

"Our country?" She smiles sinisterly. "If I recall Wakanda has not been your country for decades."

Man she wants to slap the smile of this woman's face. But just at that moment, her phone vibrates.

"Excuse me," she says stepping to the side. "Hello?"

"Where the hell are you?!"

"Woah, easy on the volume there Zarmon, I've got company."

"You left me behind!" In his defence, he does sound exhausted. "I came up to look for you, and you were nowhere to be found, so you owe me an explanation, where are you?"

This has always been her issue. Zarmon is clever. More than once she has tried to lie to him, only to find out that he knew something all along. And he has been loyal. Always. Cocking her head to the side, she finds the face of the King stern and unreadable. But he does not look happy.

"Look, go home Zarmon," she pleads. "Alright? I'll handle it from here. You did your mission, I already arranged that the money be wired to you, so you don't need to worry about that . . ."

"Woman for gods sake! I couldn't care less about the money, it's you I'm worried about!"

"I'm going home Zarmon. That's all you need to know."

"Right . . ." He drawls Out the word the way he always does when she's talking foolishness. "Because your home has always been so hospitable to you. Tell me one thing at least - am I going to see you anytime soon?"

Sadness. That's the first thing to hit her. Because he will wait. And time will pass. And it will only wound him.

"Better say no. I wouldn't want to get your hopes up. Thank you for all you've done for me . . ."

"Phalaesia . . ."

She rings off before he can say anything else.

—-

" _It is not about what they think of you."_

" _Huh?"_

 _She rises to the surface of an ocean. When did she fall asleep? She doesn't remember closing her eyes. Yet here she is with the potent purple backdrop and the peace that comes from being merely spirit with no body. Ah . . . lavender. And incense. Mama was always burning it in the summer, to bring the ancestors blessings upon their home. There is no pain here. It is as if the moment when one is falling asleep is frozen forever in time._

 _There she walks from the water, up to the field. And to the tree. Where a little old woman sits, kneading dough into bread. Familiar. Somehow._

" _Mama?"_

" _It does not matter what they think of you," she repeats. Her skin is wrinkled and dry as she lifts her eyes up to meet Phalaesia but when she reaches and touches her cheek, the first of many tears begins to fall._

" _Mama . . . it's been forever . . ."_

 _The old woman jabs a finger at her daughter. "And it would have been longer, if you had let me go."_

" _Let you go?" She sinks into the grass. "How can I let you go? You are as much a part of me as my own blood!"_

" _Phalaesia . . ." Her mother sets down the dough and breathes long, and slow. "Do not worship me as if I were some other woman. I was cruel, and evil, in my time. I did things that I would not care to dream of, and your obstinacy keeps me here. Child, it is time to let go of what happened to our family."_

" _No! Never, I'll never let go."_

" _You must!" She begs, grabbing her daughters cheeks and shaking her. "You must or you condemn yourself, and you condemn him as well!"_

" _What about Papa!" She snaps back. "What about Trussille, and Aaris?! It should have been me that died that day and you knew it. Everything you made me watch, watching you try again and again to slit your own throat and now you're like, just brush it off and have a nice life? No."_

" _Phalaesia . . ." Her mother reaches for her hand but it is slapped away._

" _You May have forgotten our family," Phalaesia says. "But I intend that they will never be forgotten. I'll have Klaue's head in my hand before the day is out."_

" _Be careful, little girl. Love is stronger than hate. And there is enough hate in you to last you a lifetime. You must let go of our family, or you will never fulfil your destiny. Is this your final word?"_

 _It's not that she doesn't understand consequences. But_ _no one has ever given a damn about her. And she knows all too well, she does not have to be_ _ **good**_ _to protect Wakanda._

" _Then you are doomed."_

"My lady . . ."

"Get away from me!" She felt the surge, never the effect. All she knows is one minute the innocent servant was trying to rouse her, the next there's a pulse and the servant stumbles back a few feet.

"Oh my!" She shrieks. "I am so sorry! It was an accident . . ."

"It's . . . it's alright?"

"And who might you be?" Phalaesia questions. "You can't be more than ten."

"Twelve!" The girl huffs. "I'm River. I serve in His Majesty's household. He sent me to rouse you as he wishes to speak with you privately. He said you would know where."

The spell is broken. She can't forget that the spell is broken. Her powers are no longer suppressed so the utmost caution is required. No more bodies.

"I understand. Please inform the King I will be there as soon as possible."


	5. Chapter 5

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She hopes the gown isn't too revealing. It's not like there was anything else in the wardrobe apart from the Dora Milijae armour and she's still sure that it might be a bit in the face.

The silky blues seem to compliment her dark skin, but the neck is considerably lower than she would have liked, and if she ever needed to throw a kick, well, let's just say she'd lose half the dress.

And she feels good as she makes her way down the glorious corridors of T'Challa's Palace. Many memories in this home. Many tricks that she and T'Challa would play on the solemn guards as they stood around. And they'd always get caught. But T'Challa always took the blame. Always. Even when it was her idea. She feels good. Given what T'Challa ripped out of her throat, a little bit too good. That spell was all that kept her powers from manifesting themselves, and now that it is gone . . . there are certain desires coming back that she fought long and hard to suppress.

The water is the first thing she hears. From the fountain as she heads down the stairs. The secret stairway. Then there is beautiful blue light and suddenly she's back again.

So few know of the King's Garden. It has all the majesty she remembered with the giant silver waters encasing the path, and the vibrant heart shaped herbs spilling from the cracks in the rock.

"Wow," She whispers, touching her heart.

"Wow indeed." She jumps. How unlike her to not detect someone someone sneaking up on her, but that is exactly what T'Challa has just done.

His eyes scan her body, she doesn't think he even realises he's doing it.

"Are you ok?" She asks.

"I . . ." He clears his throat, offering her his arm. "You look beautiful."

"I thought a King never loses his nerve."

He pauses. He is so warm. It's like it's in his heart, radiating into her bones. "Only when it's you. Come. I wanted the chance to talk to you. Tell me, are you still unparalleled in your ability to run?"

She almost chokes. He can't be . . . "You might have said so before I put on this tight thing!"

"I hadn't noticed." That sparkle again. "You're right of course. I'll have to carry you."

"But T'Challa . . ." Before she can finish the sentence, he's whisked her into his arms and started running. And not just the standard 100m dash. The kind of force that makes her glad she has so little hair lest it whip up and knock her out.

Eventually they draw to a stop and he sets her down looking entirely unapologetic.

"Insolent swine . . ." She mutters under her breath.

"Oh but you'll like this part. I promise."

It seems as if he's set them down at the end of a very long corridor. But upon raising his palm to the seemingly dead end, purple markings glow and the door lowers revealing a burst of golden light.

"Oh my . . . you didn't . . ."

"This was where we first met, if you recall."

"Almost falling to my death because you were getting rather excited with your ball game? Hardly likely to forget."

His snort brings tears to her eyes. She could never quite get over how it always sounds like he's choking when he laughs! It's killed many a boring morning listening to that laugh.

"I am sorry about that," he eventually manages to say.

"Yep, I hope you'd have put that in my eulogy."

She raises an eyebrow when he offers her his hand to help her sit down. "Man T'Challa, you don't have to be such a gentleman all the time, it's only me."

"Right, right."

They sit down amidst the grass. Looking out at the sunset. It would make a good picture frame. Really good. But there is something inherently unpleasant about this place as well. She has never spoken to wound someone so severely, as she did here.

"Do you remember what happened here?" She murmurs, keeling her head down.

"I remember everything that happened here," T'Challa says. Seeing her tremble, he's already moving. "Are you cold? I can get you a blanket . . ."

"It's got nothing to do with the weather I promise," Phalaesia sighs. "I just . . . T'Challa, I have spent an entire lifetime, not knowing where I stand with people. I don't know I just . . ." The words die in her throat.

"It's only me," He whispers to her.

"I need to know where I stand with you," Phalaesia says. "I can't take it anymore, I don't want to be something I'm not with you. So, if you hate me, if you're angry with me, just say and let me take the consequences but don't . . ."

"Wait a second," T'Challa interrupts. "You think I'm angry with you? Why?"

"Because I'm the traitor aren't I?!" She snaps. "I'm the one who broke off our engagement and left Wakanda and . . ." She's started crying. Words to wound indeed. She remembers how enraged he was.

The King leans closer. The scent of pinewood. "And?"

"I'm the one who chose another path over you." Her chest slumps as her head falls forward, almost touching him, but not quite. She's searching for something, just anything. To tell her whether to let go. Because to let him go now, would be far less painful than what happened last time.

"Phalaesia . . ." Tender hands lift her weary head, holding her eyes. "I couldn't hate you if I tried it. If I _willed_ it, you would still be the one person that I hold the highest over anything."

"Ok that's a lie," she says, prodding his chest. "You have your mother, and your sister, and a family that loves you. You have Wakanda . . ."

"Tell you a secret?"

Just like old times. "Go on."

"Wakanda isn't a place. It's a people. Thousands of them. And sometimes, I think it makes me a bad king. But when you left, I struggled for a long time to see Wakanda as worth saving anymore. I'll fight for it. Always. But I lost something . . ."

He's still talking when the shadow hits her. His face. Down she goes, clutching her throat. She should have called Stephen when she had the chance. He's there. He's everywhere. It is her curse. Her promise. That every time she fails to stop a great evil, there it will be forever, to torment her.

As the scene blurs T'Challa is at her side but even more so behind him. Her mother. And her words echoing again and again. _You are doomed._ Erik is here.


	6. Chapter 6

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 ** _Flashback_**

 _"I feel like I've known you a hell of a lot longer than I have."_

 _"Yeah, funny that."_

 _Things had been going very well lately. A little bit too well. Erik had been accepted into the Navy Seals and Phalaesia well - they'd made an exception for her, being the only woman ever to enter the Elite Forces. She blames Okoye for that. And now there they were. They were sitting in the grass near the barracks. And for once, Erik didn't have a gun strapped to his thigh and she didn't have a few dozen knives in her backpack, they were just content to sit there and watch the dusk approaching._

 _"Hey Laesia, you got time for a question?"_

 _She finished the last of her beer. "For you? Sure."_

 _"Would you ever walk away from all of this?" At first she thinks he is joking. But that doesn't match the look in his eyes - sincerity in how he grasped her hand. He always did that when he wanted an answer. When he_ _ **needed**_ _an answer._

 _"What? The military?"_

 _"Not just that. All of it. Sometimes . . ." The shirt is hitched a little above the line of his trousers so she can see the scars. She's seen him wait into the early hours of the morning, digging bits of skin out of his back, one mark, for every life he has taken. "Sometimes, I wish I could just disappear. You understand?"_

 _No one could understand more. But that was not what she told him. "I'm trying to."_

 _"They think I'm a lunatic," he huffed, his chest swelling. "But truth is, I didn't make these marks to wear as trophies."_

 _"Then why?"_

 _"Because I don't want to forget where I've been, when I've reached where I'm going."_

 _The sight she holds of him was always frightening to her. It was the sight of a man who could not be stopped. Yes, he was young. But he was a man and it resonated in the sureness of his dark eyes, in the swiftness of every weapon he ever pulled, in the tears he pretended he did not shed. It was the sight of a man who welcomed the end._

Courage. Strength. Honour. Three words. But never have they been so difficult to uphold as they are in this moment. She's had times of wanting to give up. Times of not knowing how to fulfil her promise to protect Wakanda. But as her head continues ringing and she struggles to keep her eyes open, she knows what she should do. It is just the greatest annoyance, that she cannot.

"That's not my name Princess."

Shuri. She's just said something. Not that Phalaesia heard. She's too busy thinking how best to kill him. Maybe they'll offer him a drink. Those are easily spiked.

 _"_ Ask me who I am," He chides T'Challa. Even now in the face of all these people, he's still playing them.

"My son," the Queen rises. Her presence is immediate, her anger ever consuming. "We have entertained the charlatan long enough. Reject his request."

 _"_ Better yet. Kill him," Phalaesia snarls under her breath.

"Oh you'd love that wouldn't you, _Laesia!"_ Where once he whispered her name it now rises to a reverberating shout. "Go on. What are you waiting for?! Tell them about us . . . no? Must be nice." He flicks his head at those gathered around them but she knows that his complete attention is pinned on her. "Sitting here in the lap of luxury, pretending like we weren't out there _together_. Oh yes he knows . . ." T'Challa has become as stiff as a corpse, his eyes narrowed, his mouth slightly parted. He descends from the throne with marked desperation. Whispers something into Erik's ear that she doesn't quite catch. Ever still. The only cool head in a room full of flames.

"You don't deserve this throne. You don't deserve Wakanda. And you don't deserve _her._ So I'm going to take it all from you."

The leaders immediately start laughing. "My goodness!"

"You've turned your back on our people," he continues. "People who look just like us."

"They are not my people."

"Didn't they all come from this continent?" Erik spits. "So aren't all people, your people?"

"I am not King of all people," T'Challa responds, his voice even. But like a single drop breaking the surface, she knows when he's waiting for an excuse to make a move. And she doesn't want it to be like this. Wakanda deserves better.

"Erik!" Phalaesia intercedes. One last chance. One last opportunity. Before she makes her move. "You've made your point. You've won."

"Not yet."

"Walk away!" She pleads. "Please! Just leave this place, you said you wanted to leave it all behind, this is your chance. Forget about this place. And go live your life."

"Without you." For a brief second, his entire demeanour softens But then it's walls up again. "No. I won't forget _our_ people. And I won't forget you. Ask me who I am."

"Get him out of my sight."

"Who are you?!"

"N'Jadaka, son of Prince N'Jobu! I found my daddy with Panther claws in his chest!"

It didn't take long for T'Challa to accept the challenge. Despite her pleading. And it broke her heart to hear him say yes. Is she ready to say goodbye to this world so soon? But as she stares back at T'Challa with tears in her eyes, and Erik is dragged away looking particularly pleaded with himself, as the room filters out, T'Challa is not quite facing her. It's like she could almost have him, but not quite. He simply stands there, eyes downcast, hands clasped behind his back.

"T'Challa . . ."

"Do you love him?" No judgement.

"Oh yeah T'Challa, you know while I was risking my life for Wakanda, the next thing on my mind was getting some."

"There's no need to be sarcastic." Whatever attempt he has to tell her off falls short. It's obvious he's trying not to laugh.

"You would risk all of this, all that you've built just because he's your cousin?"

T'Challa shakes his head as he approaches her, taking her hand, and holding it to his chest. "I loved my father. But he has wronged many people. N'Jadaka . . . and now you. I am willing to pay the consequences for my father's actions."

"Even if you die?!" She answers. "T'Challa your country needs you now more than ever . . ."

"Darling Phalaesia . . ." The hitching of her breath as his calloused hands rest her forehead on his. "Stop worrying. That's my burden. It will all be over soon. I'll make this up to you. I swear it."

There's still eczema on her hands. She could never quite get it to go away but he kisses her hand as if there's nothing wrong. As if they were still children again. As if Erik wouldn't dare to kill him.

"For Wakanda?" She breathes.

"For you."

He's gone. For a moment she believed it. As if she could ever have his love. T'Challa is as placid as anyone could ever be. And her? She's a ticking time bomb. Twice now, she should have killed N'Jadaka. She should have seen evil and struck it out. If she fails a third time, it will be the end of her. There is no other option. For Wakanda. Always. It's time to find a way to kill herself.


	7. Chapter 7

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"My brother is going to kill me."

"Nonsense. He's not the type."

"But Laesia . . ." Shuri is never sad. Never. It's part of what would have made them such good friends. Many times she's been given weapons from vibranium blades that fit into a high heel to a bracelet that doubled as a hand grenade. All Shuri. Not that the Princess ever confessed.

"What if my brother wins?" Shuri asks. "Then there'll be no need for this."

"Do you have my blood work?" Phalaesia asks.

"Yes of course, I studied it extensively as soon as Father brought it in . . ."

"Destroy it," She hisses. "Wipe your records clean. Knife."

Shuri passes the blade to her. It looks disgusting. Like a jagged piece of glass that never really got moulder right. Just picking it up makes her feel sick. Like _completely_ unhinged. It contains vibranium. That much is sure. Only vibranium can pierce more vibranium. But there are other things in it. Things that she dares not ask what they are.

"Done. Your records are gone." No hesitation. No questioning. Wakanda's technology could not be in safer hands.

"Thank you."

If this doesn't work, the whole thing is lost. If this doesn't work, she'd better get as far away from Erik as humanly possible. Maybe even ask Strange to bind her soul again. And no one wants that. But as she lowers the knife to her skin, she can almost sense her blood starting to boil. She touches just the edge to her forearm. The resulting agony is so blindingly great that she can see white streaks as she comes to her knees.

"T'Challa would never harm you," Shuri whispers under her breath as she helps Phalaesia to her feet. "I'll keep it if you want me to, but if called upon to use it . . ."

"If he doesn't kill me,"Phalaesia sighs, "You must. Shuri." She takes the young Princess' hand, forcing her to meet her eyes. It could be her. That saves them all. "Promise me you'll stop me. If Erik wins, Wakanda will be in more danger than it has been since its founding. Strike hard. Strike quick. And whatever you do, don't hesitate."

"He won't win."

"But if . . ."

"He _won't._ Now come on. Or we'll be late." The Princess starts to race up the stairs.

"Shuri?"

"Yes?"

"Remember Vienna."

The Princess inhales deeply. "I never blamed you for that."

"Oh but you should," Phalaesia warns her. "Because if I'd acted quickly enough that day, you might still have your father."

"You swore to protect Wakanda. And as far as I'm concerned, as far as my brother is concerned, you've upheld your vow. No one could ask anymore. Maybe you should think about that."

There is no response to that. Somewhere in her mind, she's still just that same little girl. The one who watched her sister get choked to death while her father stood there paralysed by his own fear. The same girl who watched her mother hang herself, and the same girl who was too late to save the King.

Just as she is leaving, she catches a sight of herself in the mirror.

"No . . ." Her eyes. The room starts spinning the way it always does when the panic sets in. Phone, where's the phone! She dials up the number as it rings on and on.

"Pick up! Pick up!"

" _You have reached the voicemail of Stephen Strange. Please leave a message."_

"Stephen my eyes are purple again!" She shrieks into the phone. "You said I'd have more time, you said the spell would help me . . ." And the veins. The black veins protruding from her eyes and ears. No. She won't see the challenge. And she'll never make it to London in time. She tosses the phone away, burying her head in between her hands.

"Strength. Courage. Honour." Again and again she says those words until her heartbeat stills. "Father . . . help me . . ." And it comes. The last time this happened, she was five years old. Her family's death was still fresh in her mind as King T'Chaka led her to the one place that no one not of royal blood could go.

" _Father I'm scared . . ."_

" _Do not worry Laesia. I will be right here with you."_

Running. Running down the hill tops and the paths. She's still terrified now. Because there's so little time. Eventually she reaches the crevice atop the higher hills, pulls apart the foliage to reveal the moss covered stone upon which is engraved three words. _Sanctuary of Bast._


	8. Chapter 8

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 _ **Two updates in a day thanks to the generous comments! Thanks everyone! Oh, and for the reader who asked about the nature of Phalaesia's powers, so far, we know there is vibranium in her blood, so to a great extent, she can control it. The full reach of her powers has not yet been seen but stick with it, and I'll explore it!**_

"Mighty goddess . . ."

She remembers the story King T'Chaka told her. How the goddess Bast led the warrior to the heart shaped herb. And he became the Black Panther. And the Black Panther ruled Wakanda. And protected it. She should not be here.

In the darkness she is aware of the great magnitude of the temple, how the wind sifts through the cracks, blowing the dust away from the holy markings and there at the end of the massive hall, a statue of the goddess Bast.

"I am Phalaesia, daughter of B'Ela. I know I'm not of royal blood but . . ." She can feel herself getting sicker and sicker. Is it even possible to feel one's life force be utterly stripped away? "Once many years ago you helped me and now I beg you to do it again! The vibranium in my blood . . . it's killing me again, I can't fight it, if I don't end it soon, I'll destroy this country, _your sacred country_. And everyone I love! Please . . ." She kneels down before the statue, touching her sweaty fingers to the top of the altar. "Free me."

At first she is sure she has not been heard. But suddenly, the eyes of the statue snap open and it straightens up. She becomes aware of another presence in the room, like someone watching her, but eyes are everywhere. A great and a niche power now saturates the very air she breathes.

"None May come before me in deception," the goddess rasps.

"Mighty Bast, I have spoken the truth."

"Not deception to me!" She barks back, making the young woman shiver. "To _yourself_ , Phalaesia, last of the Ardunine."

She dares not deny it. Though she has only ever heard the name spoken once in her life, she knows what it meant. It means the promise her family broke.

"Will you help me?"

Silence. And then the voice in the deep roars to life again. "Do you remember the story of your heritage?"

There's no time for this! "Yes."

"Allow me to remind you," the goddess says, her voice dipping to a perfect husk, just write for an anecdote. "When the Black Panther first arose, I knew that there would be enemies of the throne. A flower is most vulnerable in its youth. But mankind is not resilient enough to absorb the full effects of the vibranium, so I sent the first Ardunine _here._ There, my child fed on the vibranium meteor, harnessing it's power, integrating its life giving properties into their own blood. When the process was complete, I appointed the Ardunine as the right hand of the Black Panther, to forever serve the royal line, and protect Wakanda's great heritage from the evil of the outside world. Until your _father's_ base decision, the Ardunine were Wakanda's greatest weapon . . ."

"Do not call my mother a base decision!" Phalaesia snaps back. "She was a wonderful woman! Far better than any Wakanda could have given him!"

"He chose her over Wakanda."

"Our family has been choosing Wakanda for _years!"_ Phalaesia argues. "Maybe he wanted something more than duty!"

"And look where it has led him. Rotting in a ditch somewhere. With all his hopes and dreams."

She's too angry to stop herself. "You're a bitch."

"But we _all_ knew that." There is a long drawn out sigh. "My heart is with you. But to bind off your power is impossible. Even for me. The attempt may well kill you . . ."

"Then kill me . . ."

 _"No."_ There is no room for debate in her tone. "You are a stubborn and impulsive woman. It was your father's downfall. Until you confess your truth, your powers will forever be out of your control. You have been warned."

When she blinks, she's outside again. And she's so tired. It was dusk when she entered the cave. And now dawn is fast approaching. The challenge will have been decided. There far below, she sees the city. It is so beautiful. It represents everything she dreamt of. A place where everyone could be free.

Strength. Courage. And honour. With her hand, she reaches out. It is an idea. The most magnificent idea that is ever possible. An idea that she _could_ be enough. She swallows, trying to still her heart. Shuri. She has to find Shuri. There may well be need of that dagger since Bast has predictably refused to help.

A few minutes later, she is on the border of the city. And _that_ is when she feels it. No music. No laughter. It's like a graveyard. Bowing down and out of the way near a local vendor, she listens to two woman speaking in hushed tones.

"What are we to do now?" The one woman whispers, her dark eyes racing around like a cornered rat. "Imani. Already three people have died! And all for this woman, this Phalaesia the King speaks of."

"One person for every hour she does not reveal herself," the other whispers. "Yes I know Kali. I was there when he made the first kill! And he is no King of mine!"

"T'Challa would never have let this happen!"

"T'Challa is dead. Do not torment yourself by putting hopes in a man who cannot save you . . ."

T'Challa is dead. She is critically ill. And Erik is killing people because he knows she can never stand to be the cause of anyone's suffering. There are no more tears to bemoan the situation. Her heart falls just looking past the darkened city and empty streets, and to the great heights of the Palace she once called home. What awaits her now? It doesn't matter. She drags her tired feet forward and down the street. So this is what it feels like to be alone.


	9. Chapter 9

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In the end he came out to meet her. He always had that penchant for knowing where she was. Often it enabled him to save her life. Now it only enables him to crush it. They stop, not two feet from each other in front of the Palace entrance.

And she takes it in. She takes it all in.

He wears a long coat of inky black, a golden toothed necklace adorns his chest and the markings reflect cruelly in the light of the early morning. The Sun has not yet risen. But he shows no signs of being tired, no, but his eyes are alit with the furnace of his determination.

"I felt you," he says, his voice devoid of emotion.

"Is T'Challa dead?" She asks, cocking her head to the side.

"I'm not sorry," Erik replies, narrowing his eyes. "He knew the terms of the challenge, I finished it. And now I have what I wanted."

"I'll never help you."

"Laesia . . ." He chuckles under his breath. As if he knows something she doesn't. "You just can't help yourself can you. You and your blasé talk about honour. I kill a few Wakandans and suddenly you're before me. You should never have given into me. So tell me, why did you come, if not to aid me?"

"You're in pain Erik," she whispers. She's close enough now that she can see her own eyes, frightened eyes, reflected in the coolness of his. She reaches out and touches his face, the way she used to do. "I'm sorry for that. But I came to you, as a friend . . ." He steps away from her even as her heart is sinking.

"We were more than friends."

"No, _you,_ wanted to be more than friends," Phalaesia answers. "I never encouraged you . . ."

"You _needed_ me!" He snaps back. "Remember?! When these Wakandans who you claim to love, abandoned you?! When he abandoned you, _I_ was the one who gave you your strength back! Do you remember . . ." Her downtrodden eyes soon find his again. "Do you remember that night . . ."

She slaps away his hand. "I'll never forget that night. And don't you dare try to imply that I gave into you when you no damn well I didn't! We could never have been together, we were on different paths we always have been!"

"But it doesn't have to be that way anymore!" Erik insists, grabbing her arms so she has no choice but to focus on him. Always. And only. "Laesia I came _back_ here for you, we can do this together. All our missions, our aspirations in the SEALS and yet we never managed to achieve what I am going to do here now! There won't be any more cruelty. no more injustice . . ."

"You're too full of hate to do any of that and you know it!" She breathes. "You can't save the world with hate Erik, only _love_ is strong enough to do that."

"Then be _my_ love," He pleads.

"What as your little toy?"

"As my _Queen._ Laesia . . ." Her head jerks up. He can't be serious. It's impossible. But he is. She can read it in the unseen tears in his eyes. "Marry me. Now. And the Sun will never set on the Wakandan Empire. Our people will be free again."

For a moment she believes it could be possible. Her heart screams that it is. Wakanda did abandon her. And she never _dreamed_ for a moment that anyone could love someone who was full of so much heartache. But Erik is offering her the chance to right so many wrongs.

"I . . ." Staring down at his outstretched hand. What would it mean to take it? One word springs to mind. Treason. People do not change like that. And Erik is full of hate. And there is not enough love in her to spare him that.

"No. I cannot. I _will_ not."

The torture on his face is present for only a fraction of a second before he replaces it with the mask of indifference.

"Fine. Then you're coming with me."

There is the hint of a laugh. It's not really funny. But the irony is. "I don't know why I'm surprised."

He takes her arm, his grip unyielding, but not harsh. "At what?"

"There have been so few people in my life that I knew without a doubt I could trust. I thought maybe you. But now U see the truth. The only person who I know will never abandon me is myself."

No words. He doesn't say anything to that. Simply lowers his head and carries on walking. How foolish she was. To think she was enough to change anyone's mind. To believe that in someone else, she could find the clarity she could never find alone. Folly.

"Are you going to kill me?" She asks as they make their way down the corridors.

"What do you think?"

"Not a clue."

He murmurs something under his breath before they reach a room at the end of one of the more concealed corridors in the Palace. He gestures her in, shutting the door behind them.

"You know, you were the only person I've ever felt so much as a glimpse of _feeling_ for . . ."

She jabs a finger at him. "Don't do that."

"I thought you'd be with me forever . . ."

"I said quit it!"

"But _you,_ left _me."_ Misty eyes peer into her soul. It's like he's searching. Searching for a reason to explain it all. A reason she can't give. And suddenly all she wishes in the world, is that even for a few glorious moments, she could have known what it felt like. To love. And be loved. Not as she loved T'Challa, and left. Or as Erik adored her, and she left. To love. And always be known that she was loved. But maybe that kind of gift is not hers to possess.

They're in a bedroom. His bedroom by the looks of it, though it is hardly fit for a king.

"I hope you kill me," she whispers back to him. "I hope you cut my throat and make me bleed out, and I hope I leave this awful place and never have to see it again."

"If you try to harm yourself," he warns, "it won't be _you_ that pays. It will be _them."_

The door slamming barely registers in her mind. It's as if everything is a weapon. The bed sheets that could be used to suffocate her. The balcony she could jump off and have it be quick. The ground she could bang her head off. But she won't do any of these things. Why? Because deep down, even if everything is lost for her, she does believe in life. And in Wakanda. And that means hanging on, even when she does not know what to.


	10. Chapter 10

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 _In the flames, there was a voice. A voice longing to be free. She thinks the voice is her, but it screams so loud and for so long, that any trace of personality fades from it. It is just . . . hurt._

 _There was a little girl. A name . . . Trusille. A beautiful girl with pink ribbons in her hair and sunshine in her eyes, and the innocent hope that only a child could ever truly know._

 _"I want to be an astronaut when I grow up," Trusille says._

 _Her own hands are so small. She remembers. Playing in the bedroom while Mama and Papa bickered outside. She tried not to pay attention but they were so loud!_

 _"Her powers are getting stronger B'Ela!"_

 _"I can control them . . ."_

 _"You cannot control evil! She tried to kill me for goodness sake! There's wickedness in that child . . ."_

 _Trusille's voice carried on in the background oblivious. "Then I'd go everywhere! And you'd be there too! We'd have all kinds of adventures . . ."_

 _She'll never forget the last time she ever met her father's eyes. They were not the eyes of a warrior. They were the eyes of a tired man. Right up to the point the door shattered, and the wood splinted. Her mother was screaming. Her father grabbed his blade, an exquisite cut that she knows now was made of pure vibranium. She also remembers how he hung from it. How his blood dripped on the floor as she hid under the bed. And Trusille. Trusille was under her bed, not six feet apart. She remembers reaching forward but the door was already broken. And Trusille couldn't stop crying. That we how they found her. One minute her face was distorted with the intensity of her screaming. The next, she just lay there. And her mama. Never the same. Screaming._

 _"Witch! Witch!" She was only seven. But she remembers the first time she looked out at the night sky, cold and hungry, alone in the world. Where once was her papa's face, now were unfamiliar faces. Witch. And it wasn't long before her family's murderers realised that Trusille was not the only child. Then began the running. And the killing. She had no choice in that. But somewhere deep inside, she wishes she could have been more than just a witch._

"You must eat."

Nothing. She just sits there. There is no reason to do anything. Isn't this nice? To feel nothing. T'Challa is dead. And with him, everything she ever loved about Wakanda, it makes her physically ill. Of course, if she'd eat, she'd probably feel worse.

"Phalaesia." It's River. She sees why they call her that. Her facial paint is like a river. Forever flowing. Forever free. Why does the water cut through the rock? Because of its persistence. Beautiful. "He's going to start killing people if you don't eat!"

The smell of the soup makes her feel nauseated. It is sometime later when River somehow manages to coax her to the throne room. Oh yes. She's been strong for twenty one years. There's no need to try and be a hero anymore.

There at the end of the room, bathed in the simmering pools of amber from the flames under the pillars, sits Erik. And he looks, dare she say it? Worried.

"You look sick Phalaesia."

"I _am_ sick you pretentious git . . ."

"You need to eat."

Her cackle is loud and hoarse. "Why? What is there to live for anymore? I have nothing left. You know all about my powers. Soon they'll be out of my control. And then what?"

Rising from the throne like a wisp of silver smoke, Erik descends down the steps to her. There is a grievous sense of being too close. She once thought he was so handsome. His features so strong, his manner so confident. But that was when she was strong enough to take it. And she's not anymore.

"Then I unleash you upon the world," he whispers.

"I won't do it."

"You can't stop me."

"I'll die before I let you use me . . ."

A flash of guilt in his eyes dies before it can meet the light. "You will not die, Laesia. Because I'm not going to let you die. You say you've lost your meaning to live. But the truth is, you're just hanging on to some false feelings for that _man."_

"I loved him," she growls. "I loved T'Challa and you took him from me . . ."

"But did he love you?" Erik counters. Her voice falls. "No. I thought not. Why would he want damaged goods . . ." Flames lick her mind. Where there was stillness now movement follows. She roars. A battle cry. And swipes out at him. There are no words. The training kicks in but not with precision. Parry for parry. Block for block. She's light. And fast. But she's aching. And hungry. And tired. It's not long before he simply grabs her arm, hurling her across the room. She's up again in a flash, spitting out the blood, and ready to go again.

"Stand."

She halts with her fist ready to deliver the next punch. Of their own intuition, her legs stand. And she remembers. Why her father stayed _well_ away from Wakanda. When the King commands, the Ardunine will always answer. Always.

"Come here."

And she does. Erik bids W'Kabi open the doors. And she stares back in horror, unable to fathom what he is doing. The first ten are Wakandans, bound and gagged, but she has never seen them before. The next, are four who she does not know. But there is . . . a _feeling_ that she has seen them before. And the last one.

"Zarmon!"

"Stay where you are."

"What are you doing . . ." she hisses as W'Kabi and his gang of bandits set them up, so the group of Wakandans is on one side of the room, and the four men, plus Zarmon, on the other.

"I'm giving you meaning. Because you see Laesia . . . this _man_ is more than your contact."

Zarmon is not looking at her. Suddenly the ground is very interesting. You could hear a pin drop in this room. Because she knows that this has to play out. And she finds herself saying, "Explain."

"Didn't you ever wonder why he was so obsessed with you?" Erik continues. "Always coming back for you? I did the research. Klaue was responsible for the murder of your family. But you've lived for far too long, thinking it was you they meant to kill."

She doesn't want to hear this. It's where it's going, it's where it's taking her. She has so little left to remember her family by. To tarnish it would surely destroy her now.

"Your family were doomed as soon as you were born," Erik continues. "A conduit. The first in a long line of Ardunine who were capable of _creating_ energy, not just channelling it from vibranium as your forefathers did. Klaue spent ages searching for you but your Father, B'Ela was vigilant. He kept your family moving. Kept you out the way. He had to die. And Trusille? Trusille was to make the crime scene look more random."

Her unseeing eyes. "Stop it . . ."

"When T'Chaka brought you to Wakanda, he found out who murdered your family."

"You're lying," Phalaesia growls. "You're a murderer, and a thief. I don't trust a word you say."

"But you'd trust some old fashioned photography? Look." She's staring at the pillar. She doesn't want to look. She doesn't want to see. But when he says it again, when the King commands it, against her will she complies. Trusille's body on the ground. They were dragging her from the room. There was a camera on the corridor. An old rusty thing. No one ever really took it seriously. Until now. When the man dragging her sister's body shows his face. And he may be younger. He may be less scarred. She came face to face with Death. The man in the picture is Zarmon.

Still he doesn't look at her.

"And now we're going to finish it," Erik smiles. "You're going to get your revenge. What you've spent decades searching for. And then, you will find peace again." Something however, doesn't add up.

"The Wakandans," Phalaesia murmurs. "What are they doing here?"

"These four men, aided Zarmon in the murder of your family," Erik explains. From his coat he draws a stick, expanding into a glistening blade of finely polished vibranium. She Snatches it from the air as he tosses it toward her. "I want you to kill them."

Zarmon's eyes meet hers. "Laesia forgive me . . ."

"Shut up!" His head snaps back as Erik strikes him with full force. "Do it. Kill them. Finish it."

The blade is so beautiful. How ironic that this should be the weapon of their destruction. It will be Zarmon first. And then his thugs with him. And then the rest . . . she catches herself. There is heat behind her eyes. The way there always is when they are glowing. Death. Again her eyes meet Zarmon's. All she can see is her father's body hanging indecently from his own spear. Heard her mother crying. The pain is indescribable.

Yet as she looks around, at the room where once T'Challa stood, she knows that to kill these men, would unleash a far greater evil.

"No."

Erik curses. "Do it!"

She tosses the sword onto the ground. "I cannot. I may be broken. I may even be useless but I can still think for myself. You cannot bend my will to yours."

"Can't I? Fine! I'll tell you what. Either you kill these men, or I will _command_ you to kill the ten."

There's a child among the Wakandans. No more than ten. Reminds her of River. Hanging her head only makes the tears come faster. Maybe she could chance it? Maybe she could control her powers. Her lust for blood. She can make it work . . .

"I'll kill myself."

"Take your own life, and I will personally torture the life out of this godforsaken country. I'll make their streets _drip_ with blood. You cannot bow out. Make your choice!"

T'Challa would be ashamed. With the Queen. And her daughter missing, who now protects Wakanda? The Sun is coming up in the windows. It is the end of this.

"I'm waiting . . ."

"Erik please . . ."

"Five . . ."

"I can't . . ." She cries.

"Four . . ."

"Don't make me . . ."

"Three . . ."

"Erik!" She shrieks.

When she hits one, everything moves in slow motion. Erik's lips moving. If there is a Hell, there she will be. She's coming. Right now. But not before she finishes this one, this man, who is going to make Wakanda burn. The energy breaks from her flesh like the stone that starts the avalanche. And the room drowns in her torment.


	11. Chapter 11

Review Responses  
Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Erik is a jerk isn't he? Thanks for commenting, that was how I wanted it to come across so much appreciated!  
\- So, Phalaesia has explosive powers, powers that she fights very hard to keep contained, so essentially Erik pushed her too far and she unleashed her powers. Thanks for commenting!  
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Bruised. Beaten. Afraid. She can't believe she did it. Spared the Wakandans. And killed Zarmon and his band. She was never able to control her power before. Something must have changed!  
If only she's gotten him . . .  
Again and again she stumbles as she forces herself down the stairs. To the Garden of the Heart Shaped Herb. And all the while Erik is behind her. She can hear his footsteps. She's just hoping . . . praying.  
"Laesia!" She flinches at the pure cruelty in his tone. She's not afraid of him. She's not even afraid if he does kill her. What she's afraid of is what he could do before that happens.  
"You can't hide from me!"  
She hits the ground, clutching her stomach. Silently whispering to persist; to carry on. But there's blood in her hands. She's going to do it. She's going to . . .  
It is when she reaches the garden of the Heart Shaped Herb, that irony smiles on her. Because there is nothing left. Nothing that may calm her spirits. Nothing but ash and darkness where once the fires lit.  
Just as Erik reaches the entrance, she rolls into the browning sand.  
"Stupid girl."  
She should kill him now. Let him die and be done with it. But there must always be a King. For Wakanda no less. If she finishes it now, Wakanda will perish amid the blight of civil war. And she could not even now, kill the man who controls her with a single word.  
"Did you honestly think I'd let you try to suppress your powers?!" he roars. "This garden was burned because of you! Even if my cousin came back right now, he'd be a pathetic excuse for a King. No heart shaped herb. No Black Panther."  
She is careful to stay absolutely still in the sand. But with Erik, it is always more difficult. So difficult to suppress the pain his words invoke. And he's covered most of the ground.  
The ash tickles her throat and the smell of it still lingers.  
"And besides," Erik continues. "Even if you sabotage my plan now, what have you to go back to? The world who hates you? The shattered memory of the man you claim to have loved! But I'll tell you something - if you hadn't bailed, he might still be alive . . ."  
A tear rolls down her cheek. His face. His hopeful face. He was so sure he would win. And she was foolish enough to believe him.  
"Looking for your pretty face among the crowd, and in the moment he didn't find it, I gutted him like a fish . . ."  
"I hate you!" Like an erupting storm she barrels out of the sand and head first into Erik. His attempts to block her are feeble for she is so angry that any time he does strike - she feels nothing. Three strikes. Four strikes. His throat exposed, she knocks his arm aside, grabbing the tender flesh and squeezing all she can.  
"All that crap about loving me," she pants. "You're a liar and a criminal. And now I'm going to kill you."  
Seeing red. And feeling good. Until the moment he's about to die . . .  
"What's . . . wrong . . ." he wheezes.  
Again she tries to finish it. But it's like an invisible hand around her fingers, the strength is there. But she can't use anymore of it.  
"Having . . . problems?"  
"Shut up!"  
"Let me go."  
Her fingers come free. She's left staring at them like an amateur. And her eyes widen as Erik rises, even now the bruises on his throat are fading. And he does not look happy.  
"You can't beat me Laesia," he smiles coolly. "Your bloodline is bound to obey whoever sits on the throne without question. And unfortunately for you . . ." He taps her on the nose. "That's me."  
"Trying to lose a finger?" she warns him. "Because that's what awaits you if you do that again."  
"Words words."  
The ghost of a smile swells on his lips before he grabs her arm and starts pulling her back up the stairs.  
"And you're wrong about me," he says. "I do love you."  
"Then why did you challenge me?!" she snarls. "Why did you drag me before the world and try to make me question everything I know?! Why did you let me starve myself, try to injure myself, why did you take T'Challa . . ."  
"Because you could grow no more in his shadow," Erik sighs. "You and your blinding love. It held you back from using your abilities, all the nonsense about what he might think. About what Wakanda would think. I have already taken the first steps to freeing you from his memory. And make no mistake, soon you will be free."  
"You're a fool if you think I'd forget him."  
"And you're a fool if you think you can stop me. I own you . . . and from this point on, I forbid you from harming me . . ."  
His words are cut short by a gigantic blast outside.  
"Having problems?" she taunts him.  
"Watch your tongue . . ."  
Outside she follows him. The Dora Milijae lineup either side of them, looking out over the Great Mound.  
One of the Wakandans ships has tumbled to the ground. And from behind the flames rises a head. And then the body follows. The Black Panther suit! A spark of hope is lit in her heart but when the mask powers down, her body goes on fire.  
"T'Challa," she breathes, clutching her chest. He's alive. He's real. Even if nothing else good happens from this moment on, she saw him. Standing tall. As he makes his way across to them.  
"The Black Panther lives!" Okoye smiles.  
"Silence woman," Erik warns.  
"Cousin," T'Challa booms. "It's time to finish this. Before there is any more bloodshed." His eyes lock with hers and a thousand questions echo unanswered as he takes in her matted hair, shredded skin and tired eyes. Instantaneously his entire demeanor changes.  
"You've hurt her."  
"Not as much as you have. Phalaesia . . ." Erik extends his hand toward T'Challa. "Kill him."  
Her mind screams as her body darts toward the King.


	12. Chapter 12

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 **Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Your wish is my command! Enjoy!**

Battle breaks out instantaneously. The Dora Milijae break into formation around Erik.

"Your hatred will be our downfall!" Okoye cries. Bang as her spear rears it's spiked head. "You're not fit to be King!"

But the command has already been given. Her feet are already moving. Her speed is already inbuilt. There's fighting going on all around her now. As if from nowhere it springs. W'Kabi's army swarms forward even as something she never thought she would see pours from the end of the mound.

"T'Challa Run!" He rolls out from underneath her. A lucky swipe and it won't happen again. Especially being as he's trying way too hard not to hit her.

"Laesia, fight it!" He pins her in his arms. And the tears start coming. Tears not of surrender but of pain. She's not strong enough. "Fight it!"

"Kill him!" Erik shouts again even as she breaks free, head butting her friend square so hard that he stumbles back.

"I'm sorry, T'Challa . . ." Reaching out towards him, her heart breaks. And it breaks all over again as he staggers to his feet, still unafraid. Never has she wanted to die more than in this moment. Never more then when her back straightens up and her eyes heat up. And all the while, the battle is getting worse.

"Stop holding back!" She cries as T'Challa leaps into the air, pummelling the ground with kinetic energy which has all the same effect of a gust air. It rolls through her body, pulsing before it dissipates into nothing. Maybe it was then when her defence folded.

"I'm not going to hurt you!"

"It's _you_ Wakanda needs!"

In the second that she was going to crush his skull, two giant arms fold around her.

"That's enough of that!" M'Baku. King of the Jabari. A tank of a man and he tosses her like a rag doll. A sickening crunch signals her broken arm and she doesn't try to fix it. Though she knows she could.

M'Baku charges at her again, punching her with such ferocity that her gums bleed and her teeth rattle. His next punch is blocked as she grabs his hand mid air, SNAP! As flesh foods next to bone, and the joint gives way! His cry could wake the dead.

"Did you honestly _think,_ that you a mortal welp, could defeat me?!" The voice is not hers and neither is the maliciousness that accompanies it. "Now you die . . ."

The woman who rises over M'Baku's panting body is not Phalaesia for she has neither her defiance nor the tenderness of her eyes but rather, the hardened stare of a monster.

"You . . ." It glares, sighting T'Challa amidst the frenzy. "I remember you."

Anyone who gets in its way is tossed to the side with all the ease of swatting a fly. It has been too long. Too long trapped inside Phalaesia, always raging to be free. To fulfil its true purpose. The destruction of the living world.

"Prince!" She shouts. And T'Challa stops mid battle. And he stares. And his eyes darken.

"I knew you would come back," he growls.

"You knew!" The creature barks back. "And yet did nothing. Phalaesia has kept me out for a long time, it's true. But she is weak, she is mortal and now her strength is failing! I will not be held back by you for a moment longer."

"Khalide," T'Challa says calmly. "Please let Phalaesia go. You've tortured her long enough . . ."

"Do you honestly think that I would not ditch this skin if I could?!" Khalide snarls, clenching her meaty fists. "The stone is bound into our blood. Only one of us can be in control at any one time. And do not claim to love her. You don't know her. Not like _I_ do. Right now, I control you. And I declare your rule, forfeit."

She was going to do it too. The energy surged. The air tingled. And T'Challa went on his knees. Not for her. For Phalaesia. To let her know, it would all be ok. And her power rose to the surface as the evil creature prepared to bring the life of the King to an end. Until something pierces her chest.

The scream that echoes across the mound is not of this world. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Okoye lower her hand. And the bloodied sword that Shuri made for this very purpose, protrudes from her heart leaving gore in its wake.

"Oh Papa . . ." Phalaesia cries.

"No! Laesia!" Never has any voice been more shattered. "Laesia . . ." T'Challa looms over her, taking her into his arms. He touches her face as if just by his fingers, his friend could come to life again. But she is so pale. A tear rolls down her cheek as he touches his forehead to hers.

"Oh my love . . ."

Phalaesia smiles. "I'm not afraid," she pants, clutching her stomach. "Don't let them say I was afraid . . ."

"I'm so sorry . . ." T'Challa cries, holding her closer. Never letting go. Always holding on. "Shuri! Bring the med pod . . ."

"No!" It's getting dark now. And empty. Like at the founding of the world. There is so much she wishes to say. She wants to say she loves him. She wants to say she's sorry. She wants to make him promise to live the life she always knew he could. The life of a warrior, strength, and honour, and courage. But in the end, she squeezes his hand. This is the best end. The only end.

"T'Challa . . . I-I am _free . . ."_

Her body gives out. Her head rolls back. And Phalaesia dies.

In the turmoil that follows, no one sees the figure dip out from behind the Palace and descend back behind the plane. In the turmoil no one sees the figure take the body. Up to the mountains. To the sky. To the Sanctuary of the goddess Bast.


	13. Chapter 13

**Thank you for the positive reactions to the last chapter! I'm so grateful for all the reviews, please keep them coming!**

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"Bring her to me."

The goddess Bast emerges from the shadows as the figure in black lays Phalaesia's body onto the onyx table. She is completely still. The first she has ever been. But it is so wrong for her to be this way. Phalaesia was all that it meant to be strong. And lying here with her arms flayed out along her sides, the congealed blood on her stomach from where the knife went through - it is an end that befits a criminal, not her.

"You closed her eyes," the goddess notes.

He has never seen the face of Bast. She always wears a mask. A white, parched mask. And he is glad. Phalaesia was right. She is a bitch. But right now, the one with the power. So he tolerates it.

"It didn't seem right to leave them open," the man says, drawing off his hood. "And to watch her die . . ."

"You were supposed to _keep_ that very thing from happening!" The goddess snaps, jabbing a gnarled finger in his direction. "Now I am forced to call upon my power because of your failure."

"She kept the sword from me," he insists. "Otherwise I would have had the weapon removed. You told me she as invincible."

"I told you under certain circumstances!" Bast growls back. "And do not test me mortal welp. This is your doing. Do not allow your feelings for her to get in the way of her destiny."

He curses under his breath. Is it wicked to hope that Phalaesia stays dead? Because that is what she would want. Not to be used as she has been.

"You should never have put an infinity stone in her blood," He whispers."Combined with her power . . ." He resists the urge to touch her. ". . . it drove her mad."

"I do not explain myself to you."

"Then . . . does _my lady_ intend to bring her back?"

"I cannot reverse death."

"The Time Stone?"

"Is not in my possession. I will merely coax her body into using the sleeping powers lying dormant in her blood. The Ealia will bind her back to health. She cannot die now. It would destroy him. Now get out I do not want to see your face until the process is complete."

It is then that the fire started. And the body started jerking. And somewhere very far away - the end began.

 _"Phalaesia?"_

 _"Baba? But I . . ."_

 _She sits up in the grass. It is cool like dawn before the sun breaks into bloom. The sky is alright with purple lightning. The Ancestral Plane is there as sure as she could reach and touch it, but it trembles with earthquakes. And the tree. The tree where once stood the ancestors of T'Challa is split clean down the middle. Where once there was tranquility, now there is only ago_ ny.

 _T'Chaka hovers at a distance. Eyes wrought with sadness. As if he wants to come to her. But can't._

 _"Baba . . ."_

 _He holds up a hand to stop her coming closer. "Child - why have you come here?"_

 _The Great Mound. There was fighting. And yelling. And Khalide. Her other side. The side that loves power. She remembers the exact moment she lost control. And she remembers the sword breaking her skin. Okoye. She was proud of Okoye. And sad, because after that, time stopped. Time stopped._

 _"I died."_

 _"Foolish child!" She jumps as his anger explodes like fiery lava. She has never seen Baba angry before. But now he is unstoppable. "Why?! I hope you were not so foolish as to try to take your life . . ."_

 _"Baba Khalide came!" Phalaesia cries, pleading. "I couldn't control her, I couldn't stop her! She tried to kill T'Challa, my T'Challa, your son!"_

 _"You found a way to kill yourself."_

 _"I gave Shuri the ingredients to make a sword. A sword that would be able to stop me. And it did. It's over."_

 _He comes to his knees, his hands clasped together. "Oh my child, if your body has truly failed, it has only just begun."_

 _No. No! The clutching of her chest is instinctual. "What do you mean?"_

 _"Khalide was not your fault," He whispers. "She served as an alternate personality. In response to . . . certain things in your blood, she sprung to power after the trauma of your family's death, to try and protect you. But her means, her methods - many times I was forced to use the entire Dora Milijae to subdue her. As time passed and you recovered, I was able to teach you how to control her. And she did not thank me for that."_

 _"But now I'm dead, she will be gone too . . . won't she? Wakanda will be safe from her . . ."_

 _One look into his eyes confirms her fears. "No Phalaesia. For reasons you do not understand, you never achieved mastery over your powers. Your ability to put back together what has been broken, even life itself. Khalide has achieved all of this and more. Now that you are out of the way - I fear she may try to revive your body, with her in control."_

 _"I won't let that happen."_

 _"You are not strong enough to stop her. Not alone . . ."_

The wailing is growing intolerable. Even for the goddess who has seen mortals live and die, the very sight is distressing to her. Phalaesia's weeping, giving way to Khalide's aggressive shouting, and then all the way back again. Even with her limbs restrained, her chest won't stop jerking up and down like a fish caught in a hook, her eyes keep rolling back.

"She is not strong enough to stop the monster," Bast sighs. "She's lost too much. Too many promises, too little fulfilment. I can't stop Khalide. She's too clever, she's coming out . . ."

"She needs love."

Her head jerks up as the man returns once again. "What are you saying Demar?!"

"She needs T'Challa. You said she's not strong enough. If you allow him to see her, she would be. He can save her."

That's not what she wants and he knows it. But the benefits outweigh the risk.

"Fine! Make haste. Take her to the King."


	14. Chapter 14

**_Review Responses_**

 ** _Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - This one's for you! Thanks for the kind review (ha that rhymed!)_**

 _"I'm sorry . . ."_

 _The lift drowned out a lot of what he was said. As they are going up. To the sunlight. To the world. Because he'd stabbed Erik. And now out of respect for her, he's had to lie about it too. They both collapse, Erik and T'Challa, onto the mound on which lies the greatest scene he has ever beheld. A Wakandan sunset. And he lowers his head in shame._

 _"When I saw her die," Erik whispers, gazing out at the Sun, "I knew it was finished. That I'd give up . . ."_

 _T'Challa almost stumbles. He can't be saying that, can he? After what he did to her, to even suggest such a thing._

 _"You let me win?"_

 _"I loved her."_

 _"You ruined her."_

 _"She was a warrior down to the core," Erik smiles. "She'd never have given into me. Not truly. I just wanted her to see that." He pauses, with the ever so slight hint of tears in his eyes. "The world is dark again cousin. She always spoke of this. Of Wakanda. About how there was a place in her heart worth dying for. Worth living for. Now I'm here, and I can't stand the sight of it."_

 _His breath slows. And it's a strain. He can't forgive Erik for what he did to Phalaesia. But seeing the pangs of agony in his eyes, he cannot bring himself to hate him either._

 _"Maybe we can still heal you . . ."_

 _"Why?" He laughs. "So you can lock me up? So I can be forever tortured by her eyes, until the day I finally die a bitter old man? It doesn't matter anymore. Just . . . bury me with her. And I'll be home."_

 _It didn't drag out. He was there. And then he wasn't. And with his end, T'Challa remembers everything. Like how he will live to see another day. And the one he loved will not._

"My King! There is a man who demands to see you."

T'Challa sighs. "Demands?"

"He says it is . . . about Khalide . . ."

He's moving long before Okoye finishes. Three days. They've swept the entire country for goodness sake! And she's not there. But he saw her die. And until he saw the man, he was sure that she was gone. Until he sees Demar again. Standing at the foot of the Palace steps.

"How did you enter our borders?" T'Challa growls.

"I am bound to go wherever she goes," Demar says. His face is always partially covered but one thing still remains. The scar. The nasty jagged edge scar caused when T'Challa first realised that he was following Phalaesia and laid a good few claws into his face. One of his proudest achievements. "She came to Wakanda. And her soul called me . . ."

"She's dead. There's no further reason for you to be here. Show yourself out."

Silence. Demar cocks his head. "I have not seen you in this kind of denial since your father died."

"I said get out Demar," T'Challa replies. "Or you will be removed."

"Not even if I could give her back to you?"

He starts. There's something. A sliver of hope. And a sliver of fear. Slowly, he turns to Demar.

"What are you talking about?"

"You've searched for her body haven't you? Never found it either I'm guessing."

"You took her body . . ."

"Glory to Bast - she attempted to bring Phalaesia back to life. But _Khalide_ had other plans. Now Phalaesia is struggling to come back, and I, _we_ believe, that perhaps you can help her with that. If you don't feel capable . . ."

"Where is she?"

"Oh I think you already know that."

Okoye curses under her breath as soon as Demar is gone. "That man is a snake in the grass. He has lied to you before."

"And if it was anyone but her, I may well take your advice," T'Challa sighs. "But if there is even the slightest chance he is right . . ."

"You are angry with me."

"What?"

"I threw the sword that killed her."

"So?"

"I am not sorry,"Okoye says. "I would do it again. She would have wanted me to do it again. Why design a weapon if she was not sure she might have to use it? And if Khalide comes back, it would take more than that sword to stop her."

"I won't fail her again," T'Challa promises. "Barricade the Palace. No one comes in and no one goes out. I'll have Shuri set up the necessary equipment. At the first hint of Khalide's return - you kill us _both. Without_ question. You understand?"

Okoye nods. "Wakanda forever." She crosses her arms across her chest. But T'Challa is already gone.

"It's ok Laesia."

He finds himself there, closely followed by Shuri as he carries Phalaesia's body down to the Garden of the Heart Shaped Herb.

"Brother, her heart rate is going down," Shuri whispers as she taps away on the monitor. "I'm getting a second signal."

"It's Khalide. Just keep monitoring the situation."

It is the warm sand that they eventually find themselves. Shuri. And Okoye. No need for anyone to be there who might not make it out alive. He lays Phalaesia's body in the sand, then strips off his shirt and lies down next to her. He wraps his arms around her, burying his head in the crook of her neck. This was how it was always meant to be. And now, how it will be. If only he can fix what he has done.

"Be careful," Shuri pleads. "Don't forget about _us."_

They are covered with sand. And he's back in the Ancestral Plane.

The tree of kings is split down the middle. Once elegant purples adorned the sky, now give way to crude reds and boiling rain. This is not the Ancestral Plane. It is a monument to a fallen line. What has happened here? A finger touches his back and he jumps. And it could have been better. He could have even smiled when he saw that it was her. But then he sees the glint in her eyes, the sneer on her mouth. And he knows that before him stands Khalide.

"Good afternoon, noble King. I have been expecting you."


	15. Chapter 15

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"T'Challa?"

He rolls over onto his side. There's a voice calling him. A voice he has come to love. And trust. But only when he opens his eyes does he realise who it is.

Back in his bedroom. It's as if he's just woken up. Rolling over, past the satin sheets, a pair of big brown eyes rise to meet his and smile.

"You must have been really tired?" She Taps his nose. "Are you alright my King?"

She is so beautiful. So welcome here. "Laesia I . . ." He stutters. As he always stutters when it's Phalaesia. Because he did something wrong to her. Something that means she shouldn't be here. Something that means she wouldn't. And come to think of it, her choice picks for him are "imbecile", "dimwit" and on a good day "not as stupid as you look." Never "My King."

"Yes?" In the end it was her smile that sealed it. A doey eyed smile. He catches her hand as she tries to touch his face again.

"You're not my Laesia," he growls.

A long sigh. The creature rips off the covers as she strolls to the mirror, pinning up the strands of hair in her eyes.

"What gave me away little King?"

"Laesia would never call me 'my King'," he says. "And she'd never act like a moon eyed princess in my presence either. You're Khalide, the Harbringer."

When he sees the creature again, the bedroom is gone. Everything is gone except Khalide and the cool aura of the Ancestral Plane. Blood. He can smell blood in vast quantities. Sickening. All-consuming. Until it rises like a cesspit to his nostrils.

"You're wondering what that smell is," Khalide smiles, her purple eyes glistening. The black folds of her robes billow out behind her. And if he looks very closely, he can see the skeleton flash behind her body. "You're wondering where I've got your sweet angel. But more importantly, you're trying to figure out who you can stop me. How you can win. Do you deny it?" She stops a foot short of him.

"I know I can't lie to you," T'Challa says. It's imperative. Imperative that he level with Khalide. Imperative that she knows what keeping Phalaesia will do not only to him, but to the country he swore to protect. "So I will be sincere with you, Khalide. I _need_ Phalaesia. Wakanda _needs_ Phalaesia. If you keep her here - Wakanda will fall. Khalide . . . I am _asking_ you to let her go. Please give her back to me."

Her colourful string of curse words. "So now I'm the bad guy? How quickly you've forgotten, I _yielded_ to Phalaesia many years ago. Do you know what that's like?" Her voice becomes as quiet as the grave. It is the first time he has ever seen Khalide cry. "I was in darkness forever T'Challa. I have been shunned whenever I dared rear my head. I will not be shunned any longer. And you are a fool for coming here. Here, _I_ make the rules."

Before he can protest, she waves her hand and he sees her no longer. What he does see, is a bed. A bed in the dark. On the bed lies Phalaesia, but her skin is drained of its dark colours, her eyes are open but see nothing. Almost afraid to, he reaches forward and touches her. She's breathing.

Next to the bed sits a child. A child who holds her hand and weeps profusely. A child he recognises. Because he used to play with the same child, many years ago. What is happening? What is she playing at? The second he steps forward, SNAP! The bars encase all three of them. Irony.

"Let us see how you like your prison chains T'Challa," Khalide chides him . "Look at Phalaesia. Look at your handiwork. You have no business here with her. Leave. Forsake your Kingdom and turn it into my hands, and I give you my word that I will spare you and your people."

When did it get so cold? He thinks of Shuri. Of his mother. Now that his father is dead he is bound to do everything within his power to take care of them. Without Phalaesia, Khalide will be nearly unstoppable. It could cost him thousands of lives just to slow her down.

"T'Challa? I am waiting for your answer."

 _"Why are you leaving?!" He remembers shouting after her. But she wouldn't stop walking. And she wouldn't stop crying either but the walking bothered him the most. Every step took her further away from him._

 _"I have no choice," Phalaesia says. Still walking. Further and further towards the jungle. Where she'd hit the outside world and he wouldn't be able to shield her any longer. "People are stealing our vibranium. Baba thinks my powers would be put to better use on the outside. So, that's that."_

 _"No it's not!" He grabs her, forcing her to look at him. "Why are you leaving? This is your home, this is where you belong. Here. With me."_

 _"No . . ."_

 _"Is this about Nakia?"_

 _"No!" She cried at that. She always cried when he was getting a bit too close to the truth. "It has to do with my future! This is my home. You're my home. But I can't stay here walking on eggshells all the time. Sooner or later, Khalide is going to come back . . ."_

 _"I've helped you before with that! Laesia please, I'm asking you not to go . . ."_

 _And she wanted to. He knew that. Deep down. She hugged him as if it was going to be the very last time. She can't have been more than ten. But she already knew too much of pain, too much of loss._

 _"I've been very happy with you T'Challa," she smiled through the tears. "Whatever happens, I'm grateful you gave me that. Strength. Courage. Honour. Don't forget about me."_

When he opens his eyes, he already has his answer.

"If I give you what you want," he murmurs to the demon inside her, "it would cost me."

"If you do not leave, you will die."

"I watched her walk away from me all those years ago. And it _ripped_ my heart in two. I will not let you take her from me again."

The rumble in the deep is enough to shake the bones of any man with a brain. But when someone is in love, as he is in love now for the first time truly _seeing_ that, he is not thinking clearly.

"Fine, you think you love her?" Khalide snorts. "You are familiar with the Armagrune Trials."

The test used before a King selects his Queen to join him on the throne. More gruelling than even the greatest Challenger. A test of the integrity of their love, and the strength of their spirits.

"I am."

"You will take the Trials, on _my_ terms. I'll even allow Phalaesia to accompany you. Win, and I'll release you both. Fail . . . ." Her laugh is as inviting as cutlery scraping down the plate. "Fail and I will utterly _annihilate_ both of you. And you will never taste the sunlight again - that is my promise. Do you accept my terms?"

Immediately. "I do."

"Then let the Trials begin."


	16. Chapter 16

**Comment if you're hyped for Infinity War! Oh and comment if you like the chapter too - this one was a bit harder to write! Crystal-Wolf-Guardain-967 - Thanks for the encouragement and remember everyone, I'll respond personally to all reviews!**

This is insane. She knows it. There's just enough of their heads visible to see that they are both shaking. Trembling as if in the midst of some winter storm. Shuri sighs, clutching her temples as she watches her brother and her friend. There's been no sleep. No comfort for her these past few days. To find her brother alive only to watch him get ready t9 throw his life away again.

"You've had at least three opportunities that warranted killing them," Shuri whispers to Okoye. "Why haven't you?"

She never realised that Okoye was crying. "I cannot abide seeing him like this. Seeing her like this. But I know Phalaesia. I have trained her since she was but a child. And she may fall, and stumble, but there is pure strength in her. And I know she will not fail. She _cannot_ fail."

"And my brother?"

"He should be honoured to have her. She will show him what it means to be brave."

"But Khalide!"

Okoye leans forward heavily on her spear. "When Phalaesia came here, she was only seven years old. So much hate. So much confusion. I tried my best to train it from her. To beat the hate out of her. But then Khalide arrived. And Phalaesia as a person, became _deeper._ She knew from Khalide, what happens when hatred consumes us. Maybe that was why she latched onto Wakanda. To protecting something. To being better. But she has given her entire life to this country. And now because of your brother, she knows what love feels like. And I do not believe that she will let that go easily."

"But then our only hope is to hope that she is strong enough."

Okoye's face has never been more sure. "I know she is strong enough."

"December 24th 2008."

Phalaesia's eyes widen but to her credit, she does not take her eyes off the shadow standing opposite her as her hand rests upon a golden stand. They've both been warned. The first test, is a test of truth. Tell a lie, you die. Fail to pass the test, you die. And with them, Wakanda. Her eyes never leave the shadow. He admires her for that.

"So?" She pushes.

"Look at your beloved." Round and round the words her tongue hisses like a serpent. Phalaesia does so. "Into his eyes. Into his _spirit."_ When she does, T'Challa sees the woman he has always loved. But he sees something else. Something she kept concealed. "Tell him what happened on that date."

Silence covers the darkness. A sinister combination. The time drags. And try though he may to spare Phalaesia, he is terrified that one word would finish her. So he mimes instead. Strength. Honour. Courage. She smiles though it falls well short of her eyes.

"I was in Budapest," she whispers, keeping T'Challa's gaze. The stand glows. "I knew Klaue had come there. I'd tracked him. I wanted the next day. Christmas. To remember my family. To honour them. I was going to finish it that day. But I . . ." Silence. A tear rolls down her eyes but still she won't look away. _Go on,_ he pleads with his eyes. _Go on my love._ "There was a man. A man you knew who came from Wakanda to help me. To avenge his parents. His name was W'Ran."

His heart stops. W'Ran was W'Kabi's younger brother. His only brother. He disappeared 10 years ago, believed dead. It broke W'Kabi's heart.

"And I was so happy to be near someone from home, I didn't check the mission! I didn't . . . _do_ anything that I was supposed to do! So we got into the warehouse . . . and they started firing. I - I let my fear overpower me. I felt Khalide coming and I could have fought, but I didn't, I gave in! When we were captured by Klaue, he wanted to teach me a lesson! And I wasn't myself, it was like a nightmare, like a long nightmare, and he . . ." She's crying so much now that it's a wonder her hand doesn't slip from the stand. "He made me watch as he tortured W'Ran. First his fingers. And then the bones in his arms. Finally they broke his neck. Left his body to rot on the floor like some kind of rat. My truth is . . ." The golden stand glows a little more. " _I_ killed W'Ran. And his blood is on my hands."

The stand explodes but he's already at her side, throwing them both to the ground, her head cradled in the nook of his arm as the debris blows in one giant wave over their heads.

"Beginner's luck!" Khalide spits. He helps Phalaesia to her feet, wrapping his arms around her waist as Khalide's shadow materialises before them again. And he has never felt so sure of one thing. If he is ever going to spend eternity with anyone, it has to be Phalaesia.

"Congratulations brat. You passed my first test. But now there will be other tests, better ones. I'll strip you to the bone. I'll make you see your little love tale is nothing but fleeting. And when you both die, I will rise to power as the rightful queen of Wakanda. Ready yourselves."

Khalide goes. Laesia is staring up at him.

"Don't turn away from me," T'Challa whispers. He touched her cheek, turning those dark eyes to his. "Don't hide from me Laesia."

"Are you angry with me?"

"Angry?" The idea is insane. "Laesia you're the bravest woman I've ever _seen._ You're always fighting, you're always doing the best you can - I _love_ you for that. You don't need me to be ok with you. You don't need me to set you free from that memory because you already know the truth."

"And what's that?"

"W'Ran made his decision. Nothing that happened that night was your fault. And you don't need my forgiveness, you don't even need my love Laesia, but you have it, in every way that I can give it . . ."

Before he can finish speaking, the scene flashes and changes again. The shadow of Khalide is on the wall as it always is. The second test has begun and this time, it is his turn.


	17. Chapter 17

**_14,404 reads guys! Thank you so much! Please leave a review if you can spare the time, it really helps the inspiration!_**

There was her. At the beginning her. And at the end, her. Always. She is the truth he wanted to forget. But could not. He doesn't remember how he got here. How either of them got here. But somehow, they're wading through the thick foliage near the Palace in Wakanda, a place they used to play together as children. There's something wrong. Maybe it's how Okoye is overly talkative. Maybe it's how the sky looks like something out of another plane. But one thing, one person, is the same as she always was. And that's Phalaesia.

"T'Challa?" She whispers. Her hand slips into his as she pulls him slightly back from the party of Dora Milijae moving ahead. "Something is wrong. Really wrong. I feel . . ." She hesitates. "I feel _something._ I can't even remember how we got here. But everything feels so real."

Her hands are cold as he squeezes them. "I think we should stick together. I too have felt something similar. Like . . . like it's real, and it isn't."

"But you're real."

He yanks her hair though not enough to hurt her. "You think so?"

Beautiful black eyes glare back as she crinkles her lips. "Yep, you're real."

"My King?"

Okoye has turned back. She looks around, as if expecting something to burst from the trees. Even when she sees nothing, her spear still does not lower, nor do her eyes dim. "It is unwise to linger here. The Runners will be out."

"Runners?" They say at the same time. Phalaesia steps forward.

"Of course you know, I am aware of everything that's happened here recently. But, in case someone were to . . . ask for a briefing on why we are outside the Palace, you would say?"

"M'Labwe came to Wakanda three days ago," Okoye narrates. Her arms guide Phalaesia to the front of the party with all the tenderness of a wolf about to sink it's teeth. "No one knows who he is. Or where he is from. Many Wakandans were slaughtered trying to stop his entry."

"What about M'Baku?" T'Challa intercedes. "What about the Jabari? They would never allow Wakanda to be taken over by another King . . ."

In response, all he gets is a very confused look. From all of them.

"My King?" Okoye asks. "Do you need us to stop and rest? You are very weary from all the fighting . . ."

"I don't need rest," T'Challa growls. "I need to move past this ignorance. Where is M'Baku?"

"There is no M'Baku . . ."

Phalaesia is the one to snap first. The one to whip a sword out of seemingly thin air and have it at Okoye's throat before the rest of them can even blink. Instantly the Dora Milijae turn their weapons upon her.

"If this is a joke, it's _not_ very good," Phalaesia snarls. "Answer his question. Where is the Jabari King?"

"My King, you have my sincerest _word,_ I have never heard of any M'Baku. Or the Jabari."

T'Challa meets Phalaesia's eyes. And the fear he sees resonated there is nothing short of his own. This is no dream. It's a nightmare. That, or his entire life has been a lie.

"My mother? Shuri?"

"Held hostage by the M'Labwe in the Palace, along with your father . . ."

It's like a pile of rocks has hit him. That statement rings with her truth. But it is a lie. It must be a lie. For though he remembers very little as to how he came here, he does remember his father dying. He remembers the crying. And the fire. And the smoke that almost suffocated him.

"And we are staging a mission to rescue the hostages,"Phalaesia says. "Correct?"

Okoye nods. "Correct."

Phalaesia sheathes her blade. "Then we are on the same side. Lead the way."

At his command, they do continue. Which strikes him as a little odd. He takes Phalaesia into his arms, squeezing her tight. There's a wound somewhere deep inside, that's been ripped open all over again. So much confusion. Things that don't make sense.

"Is it possible . . ."

"My dear," Phalaesia interrupts, "your father _is_ dead. I touched his forehead as he lay dying, as he made me swear to love you, to protect you and your family. That promise was real."

"Then Okoye is lying."

"The other Dora Milijae seemed to believe her words," Phalaesia sighs as they resume walking hand in hand again. "Okoye is not the type to resort to deceit. You can only lie if you know it is not the truth. And I saw truth in her eyes."

"Then what fresh hell is this?" T'Challa breathes.

"I am not too proud to say I don't know."

They clear the forest not long after, with the Palace looming out of a queer violet coloured mist. Not a guard in sight. With an empty city. And no sound but the crunch of the leaves underfoot. This is not Wakanda. It is Wakanda's grave.


	18. Chapter 18

Khalide watches them with very great interest. It's insane really. The idea that he should come down here for her. That he would dare risk his own life, just to bring back one. It's stupid. A bad move, tactically that is. In truth only love could make someone so foolish.

"Fools," she murmurs under her breath. "And you Phalaesia . . ." She touched the glass through which she sees them. "I expected more. You of all people should know, humans can't be trusted."

 **13th March 2008**

 _"Gabriel?"_

 _Things were getting worse and worse, every damn day. First she discovers that Klaue is alive after she distinctly swore she killed him, and now, he's trying to reroute himself back to Wakanda. And he's been in the jungle a lot lately. It's taken a lot of deception, a lot of dabbling, to keep from finding the exact spot where the capital city is again. But she's looking forward to seeing Gabriel._

 _She unlocks the door to the apartment. They're not living together, but he always said if she ever needed him, if it ever got too much, all she had to do was drop by. He knows her real name. Even about her powers. She knows she can trust him. Not like T'Challa. She winces at that. Never again. Never, again._

 _It's as she approaches the door that she gets the sense of something. Something inside her telling her to slip off the boots that make the sound. And to move lightly, like a mouse, as Okoye would say. Something that tells her. Like the fact that Mrs Williams at number 38, has gone unusually quiet even though she's a clumsy woman and is always shattering things. Or the neighbours upstairs, not playing their jazz music at all hours of day as they normally do. Something._

 _Sure enough her heart is racing as she glides along the floor to number 36. Gabriel's home. And she hears voices._

 _"When are you next expecting her?" A gruff voice says._

 _"It shouldn't be too long now." It's Gabriel, but it sounds nothing like him. "Soon you will have all the money you wanted, and more."_

 _"You seem pretty confident you can control her."_

 _"I've studied her. My formula won't fail. One dart, and she'll drop like a fly, I promise you. Vibranium X never fails."_

 _She lowers herself to the ground. It can't be Gabriel. She and Gabriel have spent so much time together. She's a spy isn't she? She knows when someone is lying, she's looked into his eyes and seen truth. He cares about her. He cares . . ._

 _"Nevertheless," someone else replies. "We can't hang around. The bodies are going to start to stink."_

 _They're still talking, when against all odds, the door of Mrs Williams' door swings open. And on the floor, there's smashed glass. And around the smashed glass is a body. And there are eyes rolled, dull as winter sky. And the face has been seen before. Mrs Williams. Her husband is going to come home. And he's going to look for his wife. And he'll find her, on the ground like some kind of animal, stolen from the world years too soon._

 _"I hear something . . ."_

 _The something was her throwing up._

 _"I'll check it out."_

 _The door opened, and there was a man. And behind the man was another man. And next to him was Gabriel, all geared up like he was ready to start a fight. And she saw his smooth smile for what it was. A mask of the highest art. A deception. For a girl who should have known better than to place her soul in the hands of a demon. Within seconds, all three were dead. And she didn't bury them. She just left. And walked away. Like she always did._

"We have arrived."

They've been over the plan a thousand times but it still sounds . . . odd. All she and T'Challa know, is that while the Dora Milijae cause a "diversion", they will make their way down the west wing. What happens after that? Okoye doesn't say. But she was very insistent about it being the _west wing_.

"Laesia?" T'Challa whispers as they race down the hallways. "Where are the guards? W'Kabi . . ."

He's right. No one is anywhere to be seen.

"What's in the west wing?"

"Nothing."

"Then why did Okoye demand that we go there?! Listen to me." By sheer force she drags him to a stop. "Something is wrong T'Challa. With Okoye, with the Dora Milijae, with _everything!_ We're being set up."

"Okoye is not capable of treason!"

"I didn't say she was a traitor!" Phalaesia snaps back. "But boy is she acting weird. All 'my king', and 'here's the secret plan that makes no sense and that you have no memory of, let's just pray to Bast it works!'"

"Calm yourself . . ."

"Don't tell me to calm down . . ."

"My mother. My sister. My father. They should be here. And they are not. If this is how I get them back, then we have no choice but to play along. I need you with me."

Her sigh is long. "I'm always with you."

"Then we see it through."

The west wing seems more like a death sentence now. "For Wakanda, Yes."

And it was only a few minutes later that they found themselves in the West Wing, the Grand Hall. With twenty guards on either side. No way back. No way forwards. The majestic marble doors swing open. From it emerges Okoye. W'Kabi. And a woman with no face.

The entire room kneels to her, exempting T'Challa and his beloved. He pushes Laesia behind him, trying to focus on the woman with no face.

As one, the entire room's eyes turn white. They stand, and speak.

"Welcome honoured guests," thirty people echo.

"What is this . . ."

"My plans have been perfect in every way," they say. "You should teach your people, how to resist mind control."

The woman with no face is not speaking. Just staring. Though how, he cannot tell.

"Why don't you speak?" T'Challa says.

"I cannot. I project my thoughts to your people and they _act them out._ Now they are my voice. My treasure. My beloved children."

There is an unholy tension in the air as the thirty voices break and rise again. "I am the Queen of new Wakanda. Until you arrived, I did not have the power necessary to . . . _Cement_ my authority, but now little King, you have brought it to me. T'Challa, _bring me,_ Phalaesia."

When T'Challa turns to her again, his eyes are white too.


	19. Chapter 19

**Note - Phalaesia will be in Infinity War just as soon as I've watched it this weekend so I'll finish this book and then I'll write the sequel which will carry on into Infinity War!**

T'Challa!"

Her scream was hanging in the air even as her body dove downwards, breaking from him. And the necklace was on. She should have ripped it from his throat first but it advances, changing into the glistening inky black of the Panther suit. And those claws are sharp. Once She dodges. A second time. A third.

Her strikes bounce against the vibranium, and it's taking too much energy. That's when her guard fell, just for a moment. That's when he struck her. As she hits the ground, she tries to scramble to her feet.

Soft tears from T'Challa as he grasps his head. "Laesia . . ."

"T'Challa . . ." She climbs up, throwing her arms around him. "Don't leave me, please don't leave me! You can fight this, I know you can . . ."

"No . . ." His breath becomes laboured. "Go . . ."

"I won't leave you!"

"You won't . . ."

The rest of the Wakandans close in around her. She sees. And hates herself for doing so. For some reason, that creature on the podium needs her power. And if that is true, to stay is to threaten Wakanda.

Above her, there is a vent. The west wing is situated directly above the vibranium mine from 1706, and the heat needs to be well cleared to minimise any danger. That being said it could well kill her. That also being said, staying here will definitely kill her.

"I love you," she promises T'Challa. "I'll be back."

In the same second that thirty people pounce on her, she leaps sixty clean feet, tearing the cover from the vent and escaping down the shaft. That is when everything goes silent.

Never has he prayed so hard in his life. Not even when he thought his father was dead. His father _is_ dead. It is a most curious state of affairs. Everyone gathered in the West Wing, in silence. Why has she not commanded them to follow Phalaesia? And why do they now speak as themselves? _Themselves_ instead of fractured voices of the Queen who sits upon the throne, watching him.

"T'Challa . . ."

All at once his face turns as white as paper. "No . . ."

"My son . . ."

His father draws out from the crowd, reaching out to touch his face. Is it not what he would always do? When telling stories? When comforting him after a bad night?

"You're dead."

His mother and sister emerge from behind his father. It maddens him. To see his father so happy, so healthy, so utterly free of the darkness from whence he came. A family again.

"You're not really here . . ." He winces.

"My son . . ." His fingers graze T'Challa's cheek as his soothing smile fills the room. "I have missed you."

"It's you . . ." As sure enough, as soon as he turns to face the queen, he can detect the humour in her eyes. "It's you!"

And he was going to sheer her head off. Take it clean off her shoulders. He was going to make it so she was never a threat to _anyone,_ ever again. Then something locks around his throat and he goes down.

"Brother," Shuri pleads as she tightens the whip around his neck, "you must stop fighting."

"I'm going to kill you," T'Challa growls. "Maybe you can bind me once. Maybe even twice. But now I know how your mind games work. You won't fool me the same way twice."

"Kill you?" His sister's eyes roll back in her head, becoming white again. "I do not want to kill you young King. Far from it. I want to bring Wakanda to glory. And you with it. Think about it. Think of all I have done to get you here. I have plans that far exceed anything you could have had before."

"What are you talking about?"

"You seek to protect Wakanda," the Queen's voice continues as his sisters body shakes with the vibrations. "I commend you for your courage. But sooner or later, whether by the hand of mankind or by forces unseen, Wakanda will be taken from you. Your technology that you have used to forge this utopia, will be used to forge an atrocity beyond your imagination. My plan, is the best for us all."

"And Phalaesia?" He hisses. "Do you honestly think there is _anything_ you could say or offer that would make me abandon her?"

"She is a weapon!" The Queen roars. "A tidal wave with powers beyond imagination! You are nothing but mortal, and she . . . she has the power of the gods! With her abilities, your country will flourish beyond your imagination! There will be nothing to stand in your way, and no task that proves impossible! Tell me now little King, such a woman cannot prove more important than the wellbeing of your people. If you bring Phalaesia to me, _I_ give you my word, your name will go down in history as the greatest ruler this world has ever seen!"

In the end, perhaps it is foolish he does not hesitate more. For anyone else, he would. But she said she loved him. And now, he realises with an almost shattering sadness, how much he also loves her. Because he cannot let her go.

"No."

Silence. "Then you force my hand. You could have spared her life. But your vents all lead to the same place, unfortunately. And when Phalaesia reaches your sister's lab, I am afraid her fate will be sealed."


	20. Chapter 20

_Flashback_

" _Laesia!"_

 _"No . . ." She's choking as Okoye tightens the whip, pulling her back from the young prince slightly. How old was she then? Nine? Ten? Either way, he'd only really known her for a few months. So it shouldn't have felt like the leash was on his neck._

 _"T'Challa stay back!" King T'Chaka barks._

 _"You're killing her!"_

 _"I'm protecting her! Find your mother, this is no place for you."_

 _Even then, it took one of the Dora Milijae to physically subdued him from coming any further. She was crying. And choking. And clawing her face so hard it bled. And all the while, Phalaesia's voice was not entirely hers._

 _"Baba," Phalaesia choked out as King T'Chaka knelt down before her, coming to eye level. "Please . . . please . . ."_

 _"Listen to me." His father's voice did not break nor did the rich tones of his voice ever hesitate. He speaks as if he stands before a lion. Measured. And ready. "Listen to me you monster. Do not imitate her. Do you understand?" And still what appeared to be Phalaesia was crying softly for T'Challa, and Okoye tightened the whip so hard her head pulled back._

 _"Do you think I will not choke the life out of you Khalide?" T'Chaka warns. "Do you honestly think that because you wear her skin, that it grants you free reign to manipulate as you see fit . . ."_

 _"Fool!" Her nails narrowly miss his face as she tries to lunge. A second Dora Milijae stands at the ready. "I am a goddess. Not this flimsy flesh you see me in! I don't answer to you for the simple reason that I am better, more advanced in everywhere, the power bestowed upon me is more than you could ever dream of little thing!"_

 _"Oh? Then why do you cover behind the mantle of a frightened child?"_

 _Khalide pauses. "Do not think you are the only one who loves Phalaesia. I seek to protect her from her destiny."_

 _"And What is her destiny?"_

 _"Carnage!" Khalide hisses. "Destruction. And blood beyond the likes of this world! You have the blood work. You know what is in our blood? When he realises it won't work without us, he will come for her. And when he does, Phalaesia must be ready."_

 _"She is strong."_

 _"She is not enough to handle Thanos."_

"Always so predictable Phalaesia."

His heart sinks as he sees Phalaesia pinned to what looks like a missile. And what's worse. Not by ropes. Not by chains. But by her very _skin._ Smears of blood and burnt flesh from where it's sticking to her. The queen with no face and Okoye stand to the side. It happened as she said it would happen. And now Phalaesia . . . but the memory. The memory that felt real and not real. Something . . . but it will all be lost. But what's done is done. It is too late to unplant what he planted.

The queen with no face approaches Phalaesia and with one hand, tears her arm forward, ripping the skin free of the bone. And yet Phalaesia doesn't scream. Though silent tears run, the only thing sure in her eyes is hatred. Instantaneously, the skin heals across.

"You see T'Challa?" Okoye's jaw bounces up and down as the queen projects her voice through her. And even now, he is not sure how to win. "Look at that. What your technology takes hours to do, she has done in minutes."

"Let her go."

A chilled giggle that doesn't sit quite well with Okoye. "Why? Because you love her? You only think you do. Love is the greatest illusion of all. We see the people we love as we wish them to be. Not as they really are." And all the time he is looking at her, and she is looking at him and he hopes his eyes convey what his lips cannot. It's going to be ok. "You see her as this precious woman. A woman to be your Queen when really, she is a murderer. A thief. And a liar of the filthiest kind. Not worthy of your time. This is a J-12 air to ground missile. It was quite simple to compel your sister to design one for me."

"Those missiles don't work," T'Challa answers, unfazed. At least he hopes he is. It's been tested."

"Because of an inadequate power supply yes? All the vibranium in Wakanda could not power it. But that was before you had Phalaesia. Her potential for energy is infinite. All I need do is fire this missile. And it will take out every life on the planet apart from this great nation, because no nation has the technology to defend itself from vibranium, apart from Wakanda.

"I thought you wanted an empire."

"Not with those people," the Queen continues. "People are stupid. Prejudiced. Arrogant. I will not save a tumour. I intend to rebuild it all. And you . . ." She waves a bony finger at Laesia, "are going to make it happen."

 _Kill me,_ she mouths. He shakes his head. Just wait, just wait. Wait Laesia. The second the Queen sees him looking at her, her heart hardens. Her fingers shake as if possessed as she lifts her hand and jerks T'Challa towards the control pad.

"You are going to activate it," the Queen says. Okoye points her spear, forcing T'Challa to stand next to the control pad.

"The combination is 6309, activate it."

"No."

"Imbecile . . . don't you know when to give up?!" She backhands Phalaesia so hard it leaves a mark. "Let go of this foolish affection you feel and take control of your destiny! Her death will feed our empire!"

"She is my destiny." Still looking at her.

"My Queen." It is Shuri who enters the lab next. And in her hands, she carries what he sought so hard to conceal. The bomb drops into the Queen's hand and lies still. "I found this amidst the vibranium pipes. It is one of my most concentrated explosives."

The Queen flicks her hand and Shuri stands still. "This is why you wouldn't do it. Some misguided hope. You see now? Love is not the strongest force. _Will_ is. And I will prove it to you." Before he can move an inch she has her hands clasped around Shuri's neck.

"No!"

"Activate the missile. Or I will snap your sister's neck like a twig."

Any strength he had fails in that moment. Down on his knees he goes. It's gone too far. It doesn't matter who he is, it doesn't matter that he was King. What matters is the right to be called human and that means . . .

"Please," T'Challa begs, "please let her go. Let both of them go. I'll give you anything you want! Technology, wealth, our history! I'm begging you, you're angry at them, you're angry at Phalaesia but they don't deserve to be punished! Any punishment you met out, I'll take it! I'll take the beatings, I'll take the torture, I'll take anything, just leave them out of it!"

She leans down. And the mask of white falters. "I have what I want. Little prince T'Challa, squirming like a three year old. That is what love will do for you. Now _activate_ the pad, or your sister becomes mince meat."

Shuri is still. Okoye is still. And Laesia. His beloved Phalaesia. She looks as if she's dying all over again. And he hates himself for causing that.

"Fine." It's a gamble. As he walks over to the control pad, he can't stop sweating. He can't stop quaking either. He could be wrong. He could lose her forever. But if he doesn't . . . before he does it, he looks at her. And the answer is already there. And he mimes. _You are my truth._

Before he unsheathes the Panther claws, and rips her heart clean from her chest.


	21. Chapter 21

**Comment if you'd like an Infinity War Sequel!**

What is it like to be reborn? Or to have the world stop all at once and then descend upon you with no mercy again? Or to realise in one swell moment, the gravity of what has just happened to you?

"T'Challa?"

The first thing she calls for. The only thing that will always make sense. Is him. Her eyes open to see his big brown eyes smiling back at her. And it all comes back. Dying. And him braving the unknown for some reason, to bring her back. And Khalide, everything. And it all makes her feel so very queer. Like her grasp on reality isn't quite sure anymore.

"Uh . . . what happens to your shirt . . ."

He cuts her off with a kiss. A very fiery kiss, that makes her understand why people do stupid things. Damn. It makes her head spin. But she knows now that this is real. Okoye stands off to the side, her face dark. She'll have to ask about that later.

"Yeah, never mind . . ."

"We did it."

"You did it," she answers. "How did you know killing me would work?"

He helps her up out of the brown sand, brushing it off her clothes. "Somehow, I just knew. It was like I should have seen it all along. It was staring me in the face . . . Okoye, where is Shuri? Why isn't she here?"

"There was a message received," Okoye warns, squeezing Laesia's shoulder as she comes out of the pit. "And a warning."

"From where?"

"From space," Okoye growls. "We cannot decipher what it means. But it's origin . . .well, you will see when you get there."

As soon as they get there, even hand in hand with T'Challa, everything begins to feel wrong again. It's wrong, how Shuri who is normally so full of optimism, is haunches over the screens in her lab, going over and over it again, over and over. But she will know.

"I don't . . ."

Silence as Phalaesia walks past the princess, almost like in a daze. The language on the screen is not English. But she opens her mouth and reads it as if she's been studying those odd patchy symbols her whole life.

"He is coming for her."

"How did you . . ."

She stands, trying to keep a straight expression. "Well, the 'her' is me. Now we just need to find out who the 'he' is."

"Phalaesia that's highly unlikely," Shuri answers, trying to take her hand.

"Why?!"

"Because the message? It's ancient. It's been travelling to Earth for ten thousand years."

So it shouldn't be for her. She is not that old. Staring at T'Challa, she murmurs under her breath, "How old is Khalide?"

At first he doesn't answer. Like he hasn't heard her. Like he doesn't want to. But when she turns his face towards hers, she sees it. A blockade. A truth he doesn't want to tell. But he will. Because if she is right, she needs to be long gone from here.

"T'Challa, would you lie to me?"

"No," he says quietly.

"Would you lie to me?!"

"No!" He says louder. "But sometimes . . . Laesia, I only withheld the truth. My father only withheld the truth to protect you."

"I'm no child anymore," she says. "I don't want protection. I want the truth. Now you said that Khalide came to me, to protect me when I was a child. Like she was already a part of me. If that is not the truth, tell me _right now,_ what is? How old is Khalide?"

When he answers, her heart becomes as shards of ice in her chest. "10,405 years old," He whispers. "If She is to be believed."

"Well then I'm gone. That message is for me T'Challa. I know it, my lucks too bad for me not to know it."

The King sighs but eventually he nods begrudgingly. "I suppose it is too much to hope for that you would stay here."

She looks around at Okoye. And Shuri. At this beautiful place. "I would like nothing more. But I have a _really_ bad feeling about this T'Challa. Wherever I belong, at the moment it isn't here."

Later on that evening, he's walking her to the border. It's quiet. A sad kind of quiet. He can't tell her. He doesn't know what the risk would be. That before they woke up, before Khalide let them go, she warned him who was coming. She warned him what was coming. And that as sure as the sun rises, Phalaesia would be a death sentence to them.

"Here we are," Phalaesia says, pulling on her backpack. "At last . . ."

He pulls her close, resting his head on her shoulder. He wants to remember everything. Everything about how she smells, how she moves, having her close to him. Where he was supposed to be able to shield her. But not anymore.

"I don't want you to go," He whispers. "Please don't go, we can protect you here, _I_ can protect you here . . ."

"And how many of our people could I save, just by taking the fight away from them?" she smiles. "They didn't ask for this. They shouldn't have to protect me. I need to be able to protect myself."

"Then I'll come with you . . ."

"No . . . no my dear." She tugs his cheek playfully. "You're needed here. We have to be ready for the attack when it comes. Now, bring it in." She kisses his cheek, half squeezes the life out of him. "I love you T'Challa. I'm so grateful for that. And for what it's worth . . . thank you for bringing me back."

"I will see you again."

"Count on it."

That was how it started. That was how it ended. With Phalaesia walking away from T'Challa once again, to take on a destiny she wasn't even sure would spare her.

 **The End**


	22. Sequel

Hey guys! I hope you are all well and hopefully seeing Infinity War! The sequel to rise A queen is called Rise An Avenger And will Tell Phalaesia's journey through the events of Infinity War! Its up now! I assure you it's worth a look! Over and out everyone!


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